Just Like Heaven
by The Sun Was in My Eyes
Summary: A lonely writer falls for a beautiful spirit that lives in his new apartment. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Just Like Heaven

**Author:** The Sun Was In My Eyes

**Disclaimer: **Castle does not belong to me. If only. Also, I don't own the movie of the same name as this. Well, I _do_ own the movie. Just not the idea. And the blatant similarities.

**A/N: **This is my 2nd attempt at a Castle. I was watching Just Like Heaven and thought it would be pretty cool to see what would happen if the characters that I love in Castle were in a similar situation. That sort of gives it away but I hope you enjoy none-the-less.

* * *

_**Just Like Heaven**_

* * *

Kate took a drink from her NYPD coffee mug, grimaced at the horrible taste of precinct coffee, before she pushed up from her desk and walked over to the murder board. She stared at the happy smile of a young girl that had been taken from her family far too soon. The man who had brutalized her before murdering her was now in jail awaiting trial.

And that wasn't enough.

Her team had closed the case. The evidence had led them to the murderer and the case against him solid. Kate's job was done. This young girl's family could try and move on, and they could try and forget for a little while that their daughter was gone forever. But at least they knew that the man responsible was behind bars.

Some people didn't get even that.

Kate knew what that could do to a person, she knew what it had done to her, what it was still doing to her. She was living half a life.

Murder was her life.

This job was her life. It was something she could control and if there was one thing Kate Beckett needed it was control.

She narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and, satisfied with a case well done, finally reached up and began removing the pictures and the evidence from the murder board.

"Yo Beckett," Esposito called out from the vicinity of his desk and Kate turned to give him her attention. "We got the guy," he reminded her grinning and Kate frowned.

"Yeah Beckett," Ryan said as he came out of the break room. "You're allowed to smile now," he tried to tease and Kate stared into his blue eyes, filled with amusement, but also friendship. As much as she had tried to push them away, Ryan and Esposito were her teammates.

And she appreciated them.

Because she appreciated them both she smiled slightly and nodded. Kate held back a yawn and continued putting away the pieces that had made up a young girl's life and death. It was almost disheartening that it could all fit in a single box. Even more disheartening to know that her own life would barely fill a folder.

"Go home Beckett," Ryan said with a smile and took the box from her as she lay the last picture inside.

Esposito came to stand at his side. "Captain told us to go home after we got everything sorted, and to stay away tomorrow unless a body drops," he paused and shot Ryan a look. "We'll call you Beckett."

"Right," she nodded again at first Ryan, and then Esposito, but inside she was frowning. She didn't want the day off. She wanted another case. She needed another case. Kate needed to bring another family justice.

Ryan and Esposito walked away with the evidence box.

Kate followed orders and went home.

* * *

Her apartment was quiet and empty when she stepped through her door. She liked it that way. Twisting the locks in place, Kate tossed her keys onto the counter and toed off her heels. She scrubbed a hand down her face, pressed play on her answering machine, and then dropped onto her couch.

The first message was from a telemarketer and Kate groaned. Why did they feel the need to leave a message? It's not as if she was going to call them back just to let them try and sell her something ridiculous. The next message was from her father:

"Hey Katie, it's Dad," Kate smiled fondly, wondering if she should remind him that after more than thirty years she was quite certain to recognize his voice over the phone. "I was calling to see if we are still on for dinner tomorrow night. Love you, "he finished and there was click signaling the end of a call.

"Hey girl," Lanie's voice was her next message and Kate smiled. "We need to have a girl's night soon. I'll hit up you're cell."

There was another telemarketer, and finally a message from her landlord explaining that he would need another week before he could fix her leaky faucet. Kate pursed her lips, turned to stare at the kitchen sink as it dripped and decided she could fix it herself tomorrow. Her father taught her to be self-sufficient and to curse at the plumbing. Maybe she could finagle him into doing it tomorrow.

Deciding to do just that, Kate walked into her bedroom to finally get some well needed sleep. For the first time in what seemed like weeks she was able to sleep through the night.

The next morning Kate let out a breath and pulled herself up and over the steel bar, let her arms drop, and then came up again. As she pulled herself over the bar again her phone rang. She glanced over, annoyed, and thought for a moment about letting it go to voice mail. Deciding against it she dropped to the floor, grabbed her phone, and then dropped onto her couch.

A quick look at the unrecognizable number, Kate determined there hadn't been a body drop and answered with a terse, "Beckett."

A man's deep voice questioned her greeting. "Detective Beckett?"

"Yeah."

"This is John Raglan," at his name Kate sat forward. "I was the lead investigator on your mother's homicide twelve years ago." He explained unnecessarily.

"I remember you Detective Raglan," she told him shortly, wondering why he was calling after so many years.

"Listen I," he began and drew a breath, "We need to talk about your mother's case." Kate's brow furrowed but she waited for him to continue. "There's something you don't know." Kate frowned. "There's a coffee shop at 4th and Main," Raglan continued knowing she would come. "Meet me there in an hour."

Another pause.

"Just you. No cops," the last word was bitter as he hung up. Kate sat there a moment wondering what the lead investigator of her mom's homicide had hidden from her all of these years.

Of course she would meet with him.

She couldn't _not_ meet with him, but she worried what this would do to her. She wondered how far she was about to fall into that rabbit hole again and wished for a moment she had someone to traverse this edge with her. She wished for someone who understood her need to know, someone who knew when to push her, and when to pull her back. Kate wished she had someone to stand with her.

Instead, an hour later, she walked into the coffee shop alone and took a seat across from Raglan. When the waitress stepped over to them with a coffee pot, Kate waved her off and the waitress turned to Raglan. "More coffee?"

He held out his mug and murmured "thank you," as the women poured him some more warm coffee and then walked away. Kate stared at him, waiting for him to begin, and when he didn't she narrowed her eyes and spoke.

"Tell me what I don't know about my Mom's murder."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Raglan stared down at the cup. "Everybody drinks their coffee out of card board cups these days," he began and Kate kept her face blank. "Or those plastic travel mugs, but there's something about the way ceramic warms your hands that…" he trailed off and chuckled. "It's weird," he told her with a smile. "The things you notice," the man explained, but Kate was even more confused and impatient.

Raglan must have noticed because he continued his explanation without being prompted. "I just got the long face from the doc," he told her. "Lymphoma. Six months."

"Sorry to hear about that," Kate said, and tried not to make it sound as if it was just something one said when they found out a stranger had cancer. She knew she didn't pull it off. Kate knew she couldn't pull off the sincere tone and hoped he didn't expect more from her.

He stared at her a moment, looked down into his coffee again. "Every year around the holidays they run that Christmas Carol on the local TV. When I was a kid, I remember Jacob Marley scared the Hell out of me. Forced to drag that chain around in the next world."

Kate thought for a moment, kept her face blank, but knew where he was going and quoted the character. "I wear the chain I forged in life."

Looking up at her, Raglan nodded, and forcefully finished the quote. "I made it link by link."

He was silent for another moment. Kate watched as he took another sip of coffee.

"I hid a lot of sins behind my badge. And now I gotta carry em. But your mother's case, that one weighs a ton."

Leaning forward Kate couldn't keep the hostility out of her voice. "Why? Because you wrote it off as random gang violence when you knew it wasn't."

He slammed his coffee cup down with a clatter. "I did what I was told. And I kept quiet because I was afraid." Kate could hear the fear in his voice even now and knew at once that he was only willing to tell her the truth because he was dying.

"There was a case about a year ago. A man named Jack Coonan was murdered. The killer was a hit man code named: Rathborne."

Kate didn't question his knowledge of her case. "And I realized too late Rathborne was the victim's brother Dick Coonan. He was already in the wind. I can't find him."

"But you've been looking," Raglan pointed out and it was clear that he didn't think it was a good idea. "People noticed."

"Who hired Coonan to kill my mom?"

"You need some context here," he stated matter of fact and began to fill in some of the background. "This thing started about nineteen years ago back before I even knew who Johanna Beckett was. Nineteen years ago I made a bad mistake and that started the dominoes falling."

Raglan picked up his cup of coffee again and cradling it, continued, his voice hoarse and full of sorrow and shame. "And one of them was your mom."

There was crack and the mug in Raglan's hand shattered. Kate tried to reach for her weapon as he slumped and fell out of the booth and onto the floor, but she couldn't move. Her chest ached and her breath hitched. The burning sensation in her chest, like fire, overwhelmed her and then suddenly she was cold. So cold.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

Richard Castle looked around the apartment and grimaced at the ornate decorations. He wasn't what one would call artistically inclined when it came to interior design, but he also wasn't color blind. The only explanation was that a rainbow had thrown up in the living room. Still, he walked into the bedroom, and stretched out on the bed.

Glowering he rolled over and tried to find any sort of comfort among the pillows.

He looked up as his real estate agent walked into the room hopefully and shook his head.

The second place was better. If by better he meant absolutely plain and grey. His real estate agent tried to convince him that modern was in. Castle walked past the uncomfortable couch, not hopeful at all about the bed, but determined to see for himself.

His back ached just lying on the hard mattress for a mere second. "No good."

Wanda sighed. He couldn't help it if people didn't know how to live.

Walking into another apartment in the city two hours later Castle frowned and pointed out, "I thought I asked for only furnished apartments?"

She lifted her arm, motioning towards the blocks that were supposed to pass as furniture and he walked out the front door without another word.

"Maybe if you told me what you were looking for Richard," Wanda complained as they stepped out of the complex and out on the sidewalk. Castle ignored her and looked around.

Wanda sighed and followed him as he began to walk down the street. "I mean, if you gave me a reason that your loft isn't working I could add that to the criteria. If I knew something about your family or what you were really looking for…" she trailed off when she realized Richard Castle was not even pretending to listen to her. A piece of litter crumpled against her thigh and with a huff she knocked the paper flier off of her leg. The breeze blew it into his face.

Snatching the flier out of the air, Castle began to crumple it for the trashcan when the print caught his eye: an apartment for rent. He looked across the street at the nice looking complex the flier advertised and handed the sheet of paper to Wanda as he crossed the street without looking.

"A place like this won't be available still Richard." She tried to tell him as she navigated around cars, and sighed as he continued on. "All right, fine, I'll call them to verify."

They entered the vacant apartment and Castle took in the spacious but comfortable living area. The steps up to a door were littered with books, and his eyebrows shot up in pleasure as he noticed the various authors.

The kitchen was small but nice.

The couch looked comfortable, and Castle thought that boded well for the bed. He made his way into the bedroom and almost sighed in relief at the big box spring covered in fluffy down comforters.

He was exhausted.

"Well I found out why this place hasn't been snatched up," Wanda began, coming into the room as he continued to stare at the bed.

"Why?"

"It's only a month by month sublet."

Castle frowned and turned to her. "Why?"

Wanda shrugged, "Some kind of family matter. They were pretty closed mouth about it," she told him and Castle flopped down and onto the bed. He felt as though the bed embraced him. Comforted, and tired for the first time in what seemed like years, he closed his eyes.

"It's a good bed."

"Good bed?" Wanda was confused.

"I like the bed."

"The bed."

"Good bed," Castle said again and rolled, smashing his face into the pillow.

"You like the bed," she repeated with a smile, recognizing that they'd finally found a place that satisfied him. Her job was finally, thankfully, done.

* * *

After three hours of sleep he'd desperately needed, Castle walked over to the now stocked refrigerator. Opening the door he stared at his selection, and finally chose a beer instead of the scotch. He shut the door, then changed his mind, opened it again and grabbed the scotch too.

Looking around, he decided the couch was good enough for the time being and dropped down onto it. Slamming the decanter of scotch down onto the coffee table, he twisted the cap off of his beer and swallowed half of the contents.

The remote control for the television in hand, he twisted to look at the TV and aimlessly flipped through the channels. Finding nothing of interest, Castle finished off his beer, and stood to get another. The background noise from the TV added to his restlessness, but he left the device on as he wondered the apartment. There was a story to this edgy, eclectic place. It had been someone's home, but for whatever reason, was no longer.

Castle sighed and pulled open some drawers, too curious not to snoop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my apartment?" An angry, huskily feminine and sexy enough to give him goose bumps, even though he was startled, voice had Castle slamming one of the drawers closed. He twisted around and stared at one of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Even as angry as she was, or maybe because of it, she seemed to have this vibrancy about her. He wanted to know her story.

He had to know it.

But then he realized what she had said.

"Excuse me?"

She took a step toward him. "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

"Your apartment?"

"That's what I said."

And all of a sudden Castle was angry as well. Had they rented it out to both of them?

"There's nothing worth stealing in that drawer," she drawled at the still open junk drawer in her kitchen when he continued to stare at her. Castle closed his mouth and slammed it closed.

"Take it easy," she tried to reason, frowning at his treatment of her furniture. "No money. No drugs," she continued and Castle frowned at her.

"I'm not stealing anything!"

"Look, there's a homeless shelter I can take you to, if you like. I can also give you some cash, but please don't blow it on more beer."

Castle growled as she walked around the island in the kitchen and stared at him. "How about I get you a burger instead?" she reasoned, not wanting to give him the means to fuel his alcohol dependency.

"Look lady, this is my apartment. I rented it."

"Since when?" She asked, confused.

"Since today," he bit out. "I'm not homeless," Castle muttered. "You know what, I don't need this!" He grumbled and walked over to grab his coat.

"What?"

"Rent scam. I rented this place for at least a month, but I don't need this. I bet there are others that think they rented this place just like you."

"And moved in all of their things?" She asked, a little amused, but still upset.

"What?"

"This is my stuff. This is my kitchen," she lifted her arm and then moved into the next room. "That's my couch and my coffee table," she grimaced at the scotch. "That's my TV and my elephant figurines."

"Elephants?"

"And what, have you never heard of a trash can?" she asked as she frowned down at the empty bag of chips he didn't remember eating.

"Of course I," Castle began and was cut off immediately as a thought came to her suddenly.

"You better not have touched anything in my bedroom," she growled and walked in the direction of her room. "You slept in my bed?" She called out, aggravated, as she crossed through the doorway. Castle followed her, slightly abashed when he realized it must have been her perfume that lingered on the pillows. It must have been her scent that soothed him into sleep.

But when he walked into the bedroom she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Richard Castle thought himself as somewhat of a sane person. As sane as a man who spent his days thinking, and writing, about murders.

Over the last day he had begun to question his sanity.

After the first time the woman had accosted him for going through her things, he'd thought that maybe he'd been scammed. Realizing that it was possible that the apartment was in fact hers, and he was the invader pissed him off. He liked the apartment. It wasn't full of memories he didn't want to get lost in. It wasn't at all familiar, but comforting at the same time.

And the bed was great. The mattress was just firm enough, the comforters not too heavy, and the pillows fluffy light. Fluffy, he thought in disgust at his diction and grimaced.

Not wanting to give the place up after having just found it, Richard was prepared to offer the woman money, and also ready to call the real estate office to try to finagle a compromise. His first order of business had been to trail after the woman into the bedroom.

But she had disappeared.

She was gone like she'd never been there before. Looking out the window of the bedroom, he'd determined she hadn't escaped that way, and furrowed his brow.

Pursing his lips, Richard had gone into the living room and stared at the empty beer bottles on the table, as well as the decanter scotch. Instead of putting the blame on the alcohol, because this woman had really been there! He was convinced she had stood just before him. Her voice real enough that he'd felt a little shame at having been caught snooping. Not convinced she was a hallucination caused by too much drinking he searched the entire apartment.

No sign of her.

He even checked under the bed.

She had really disappeared.

Slumping down on the couch, he wondered why he'd been disappointed.

Maybe because he was losing his mind?

That night she had shouted at him from the other room, something about leaving his trash all over her apartment. He went out and bought a dead bolt for the front door.

Satisfied that she wouldn't be able to get in anymore until the situation was resolved, he had taken a shower. And screamed like a girl when he'd stepped out, naked, and saw her there watching him. She had pressed her lips together and disappeared.

A man could only take so much!

So now, here he was, black coat wrapped protectively around his body, scarf around his neck, he walked down the streets of New York in the freezing cold of winter to meet his mother.

At a bar.

When he wasn't sure he should even be drinking.

As he stepped through the door of the Old Haunt he breathed into his hands and rubbed them together, before he slipped off his coat and scarf to hang on the post.

"Richard!" the redheaded actress called from across the room from her spot at a table. She was perched on an older man's lap, and surrounded by six others. Waving her arm at him, as if he didn't see and recognize his own mother, she then pushed her way through the men and nodded towards the bar.

Sighing, he sat on the bar stool, and waited for her to make her way toward him.

"Richard, Darling!" she wrapped her arms around him.

"Mother."

Patting him a few times as she shared his burden, she pulled away to look into his eyes. For a moment she let her ever-present smile fade. For a moment she was more mom than actress and he soaked it up. He needed her, had leaned on her for months now.

"Oh Richard," she whispered, her voice low and full of sorrow. "I miss her too."

He remained silent and Martha sighed before she took her seat as well.

"Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Some," he lied trying to banish the worry in her eyes he'd rarely seen before this last year of his life.

"Liar," she called him on it, but patted his hand and then shot a smile as the bartender set a martini in front of her.

The Old Haunt.

A place he used to come, back when he was nobody, to write. A place he now came when he wished he was still nobody. Apparently his mother decided she liked the free boos and atmosphere, because when they met, it was here.

Never the loft.

"Have you been writing?" she asked and sipped her drink.

"Of course not," he bit out and she slanted a look at him. "I haven't wanted to."

"Well you killed off Derrick Storm years ago, Lord knows why. You could have crippled him, but you just had to kill him. It's no wonder you can't write. What are you going to write about with the money-maker dead?"

Trying to distract him, trying to grate on his nerves, Rick let her think it had worked and shot her a scowl.

"I'm the money-maker."

"So you say, but I have yet to see the proof," she quipped and took another drink. They both turned to look as the front entrance to the bar swung open to show two men and a woman. The men were cops, he could tell right off. For some reason, since he'd bought the place, it had become the local cop bar. The woman was beautiful, but he couldn't place her as a cop. She didn't have the eyes. They all looked sad and defeated.

He knew exactly how that felt.

Rick held up his hand to signal the bartender and nodded over in their direction when the bartender turned to give him his full attention. Having done it before, it was obvious to the other man what Castle wanted, and in no time he was taking the three a round on the house.

"I've been sort of seeing a woman," he said after a moment and Martha turned to stare at him.

"That's wonderful Richard. I think you really need to get out and live a little. She wouldn't want you to live like you've died—"

"I don't want to talk about it Mother."

She held up a hand. "Fine. Who is she? Will I like her?"

Not that it had ever mattered to him to get his mother's seal of approval. As far as he was concerned, he didn't want any woman he saw to know his family, because he had never felt it necessary.

And in recent years not really an issue.

"I mean I'm seeing someone that's not there," he explained before she could continue with her third degree.

"Emotionally?" Martha questioned and tapped her glass to signal for a refill. "Because, quite frankly my dear, you're not really either."

"No, I mean I'm seeing someone that's not there."

Martha, silent for a moment, scratched at a gash on the bar and then turned to him.

"You mean a hallucination?"

Castle groaned and dropped his head on the bar.

"How many times have you seen this mystery woman?" she continued with her questions.

Richard thought for a moment, and then decided "Three times."

"Attractive?"

"Not really there Mother," he said from his spot on the bar, cheek pressed to the wood.

"Yes, well, imaginary action is still action I guess."

Richard lifted his head to stare, horrified, at his mother. Not sure why her comment was so horrible, Martha thanked the bartender as he set down her new martini and turned to her son again. "Were you drunk?"

"I'd been drinking," he hedged.

"Don't lie to me Richard, you aren't any good at it."

"I'm a little good at it," he said seriously and then grumbled, "Fine. I was probably, most likely, a little drunk."

"You've been drinking far too much lately dear," Martha admonished and he pointed defensively at her and her martini. "I've always been this way."

She had a point.

Martha laid a hand over her son's. "It's been eight months. I don't—"

"We're not talking about this."

"You need to join the living Richard. No more hiding."

He nodded as if he agreed with everything, stood, kissed her on the cheek. "Of course not," he told her and turned to leave the bar. He grabbed his coat and scarf on the way out, pretending he didn't notice his mother watching him, grief etched on her always so vibrant face.

* * *

"Look, this is getting ridiculous," The woman said from the side of the bed, startling Castle from his alcohol induced sleep.

"What is this?" he shouted, frustrated, as he sat up quickly. "That's not any way to wake a body," he all but snarled. He'd finally been getting some sleep and his new imaginary friend had to go and ruin it.

She looked at him, eyeing his Superman shirt. "At least you didn't come home to find some stranger lying in your bed," she pointed out, but if he'd been paying attention he would have detected the smile tugging at her lips.

"I was sleeping in my bed," he argued and then looked around. "In fact, I'm probably still sleeping. This is a dream. It must be a dream." Squeezing his eyes shut he wished her gone and then pinched himself. Allowing his eyes to flicker slowly open, one at a time, he jumped out of bed and pointed at her. "Why are you still here?"

"This is my apartment," she bit out, just as annoyed. "I didn't want to have to do this, but I have a gun."

"What?" he panicked. "Are you crazy? What are you going to do with a gun?"

"Calm down," the woman held out a hand, palm up, as she tried to settle him down. Realizing he was breathing heavily, he took a deep breath. She cocked her head to the side, "how do you keep getting in here?" She asked, curious, despite the situation.

"It's not me who's in here, it's you," Castle argued.

Sighing, the woman took a step closer, afraid he was going to do something crazy. "This is worse than I'd imagined."

"What do you mean?"

"Has your consumption of alcohol increased lately?"

"Maybe."

She looked pointedly at the beer bottles on the floor.

"And have you been hallucinating, seeing things and people, that aren't there?"

Now Richard gave her a pointed look. "Now that you mention it."

She paced across the floor, "do you feel paranoid?"

"What? No," he said adamantly, but realized that his answer might have been different months earlier. She looked like she didn't believe him anyway. Castle studied her fleetingly, musing that for an imaginary woman she was beautiful. Her hair was a long and wavy highlighted light brown, her eyes hard but observant. Her legs, long, in form fitted jeans. If she were a character in one of his books he'd have her ride a motorcycle to go along with the black leather jacket she wore. She—

"Stop staring at me," the woman said, unnerved, and then muttered, "It's creepy."

His eyes met hers and Castle was lost. Not brown, but not quite green either, but they flashed with annoyance.

"Okay, listen, I know a little about alcoholics," she began after she realized he was no longer capable of speech.

"I'm not a—"he tried to interject but she held up a firm hand. He wondered briefly how she knew a little about alcoholics.

"Drunk then," she amended. "You've obviously been drinking away the days," he opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it closed when he realized he had done exactly that the last month. She continued on "And now you've fantasized that you've rented this apartment, but unfortunately, that cannot be the case because I live here."

"This is my apartment," she told him firmly. "That's my bed."

They both looked at each other uneasily, before she exhaled heavily. "See that nightstand over there," she pointed and Castle looked down and to his right. "There's a ring on the wood under the novel. Go on, look at it," it was more of an order than ask. "I forgot to use a coaster one time," she explained and sounded more annoyed at that now than him. He used his fingertips to push the novel a few inches and stared down at the mark.

"And in my closet, there's a square color painted on the wall," she pointed and Castle didn't need to walk over to it. He remembered seeing the blue paint and had wondered. "I thought about painting my walls, but never got around to it."

"I don't think blue would be the right choice anyway," he said aloud and she shot him a look. His mouth snapped closed.

She decided to go for the deal breaker and pointed over to the dresser, "and that chest. I keep my gun in there along with the picture of my mother and right next to the chest is a picture of—" she trailed off as she finally looked in the direction of the dresser. "Where's the picture?"

"What picture?"

"It was right there!"

"There was never a picture there," Castle told her seriously. But there was a chest of sorts, and a painted square on the wall, and a ring on the nightstand. What was going on?

"Where is my picture?" she sounded upset and Castle took a few steps towards her. She looked at him, angry, "That's it! I've had enough," she said and reached for the chest she'd just gotten finished telling him held a gun.

"No!" he said, worried there really was a gun in there, but her hand went right through it.

"What the hell," she said and tried again to the same result. "What the hell is going on?" Hostility in her tone Castle could only stare helplessly.

She scoffed and turned to leave. "I'm calling this in," she told him fiercely and right before his eyes she disappeared.

Castle lowered his face to his hands and groaned.

* * *

The next morning, after getting absolutely no sleep, he picked up his phone to call his real estate agent. "Hey Wanda, Richard Castle, listen, do you think you could get me in touch with the people who sublet this apartment to me?"

"Is something wrong with it?"

Yes, he thought. But maybe it was more like something was wrong with him. "No," he told her instead. "I'm just really curious about the previous tenant."

"Well the man I dealt with didn't want to talk about it," Wanda told him. "I got the sense that it was some kind of family tragedy so I didn't press."

"You think she died?"

"She?"

Damn it. "It's possible right?"

"I guess so, but hey, if she did you won't have to worry about it being a month to month lease for very long," she said happily and he didn't know why that upset him so much but it did.

"That's not something I'm overly concerned over and for the family's sake I hope your wrong," he said, putting her in her place, and there was silence over the line.

"Richard, I don't know your story, but maybe you should get out of the city for a while."

Been there, done that, he thought and didn't want to think about it anymore.

"I like the apartment Wanda."

"I'll see what I can find out," she told him and he hung up the phone.

There was a story here, he knew it. He just wasn't sure he wanted to deal with it.

But he couldn't leave it alone.

If it was one thing he was good at, one thing he had always been good at, it was research. It was about time he read up on the subject, and he knew the perfect place to start.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Updates will once again be every other day. Generally I don't like to add these, but I would like to explain the lack of update. My Grandmother passed away and my heart was broken. It has only now just begun to mend. The only other thing I would like to say about it: 58 years is a long time to spend married to the one you love. I wish they could have had even more years. If only I should be so lucky. I'll look after Grandpa for you Grandma.**

* * *

Just Like Heaven

* * *

Walking into the old bookstore felt both familiar and uncomfortable at the same time. He had made it a point to avoid them in general since his last tour, after he had killed off Storm. Having been years now, Castle was happy that he didn't receive that instant recognition that came from being a famous novelist as he navigated the different aisles. Fame was something he thought he would miss, when he hadn't really known what it was like to miss someone.

Now he could care less if fans recognized him. Castle was thankful they didn't as he made his way over to peruse the section featuring alien abductions, ghost and spirit encounters, and psychics. Once he'd gone to a psychic medium, and she had gotten everything about him right. Astonished at the time, he now found himself skeptic, when he wouldn't have been before. Maybe she had researched him? Thinking about that for a moment he paused in searching, his finger lingering on the spine of a book. She _had_ mentioned that a beautiful woman would one day move into his apartment and stay with him forever.

_You have no idea_; he grumbled inwardly, knelt, and continued to browse.

The section was empty of anyone else, and it made scanning the titles easier.

"Can I help you with anything?" A woman asked from his right and he turned to scowl at her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and Castle stood, chagrined, and held out a hand for her to shake. He took a moment to admire her face and red hair before another face took its place in his mind. Shaking his head, he motioned with his thumb to the section he'd been looking in.

"Do you work here?"

She smiled brightly, "nope."

"Do you know anything about any of this?" he responded, confused as to why she had offered to help.

"Oh yeah, I know a little bit about these things."

When she made no sign she would continue and explain her comment, Castle tried to refrain from asking. She was odd, and he had a situation here. So he kept quiet, waited for her to leave him alone or clarify her statement.

"Do you believe in any of this?" The woman said instead.

"Well, you don't until you do," He answered her cryptically. "I used to believe in everything."

The woman tilted her head sideways. "So what kind of encounter have you had?"

"Encounter?"

"Here's a great séance book that could help with communication," she pulled out a book and handed it to him.

"Oh, she has no problem communicating," Castle muttered and allowed her to pile more suggested books on top of the first. He would take any help he could get at this point. Before he knew it, his arms were full of books and he'd spent over a hundred dollars.

Something had to work.

* * *

Most of the books, unhelpful, but pretty fascinating, had no real solution to his problem. After spending his entire day researching Castle still didn't know what to make of the disappearing woman. She hadn't appeared again, and he was disappointed. For all his bluster, it had been nice arguing with her. It had been nice interacting with someone like her, wondering what her story was. It had been nice to feel alive again.

He wanted her to come back, even if it was to finally get her to disappear forever, because the not knowing was almost as bad as the sudden appearances. The not knowing could eat at you forever, he knew that for a fact.

He squinted slightly in the candle light of the room and read from the text of a summoning book. "Spirit awake. Spirit partake. Spirit without fear," Rick held back a grimace at the ridiculous prose, but finished the spell anyway. "Spirit appear."

He held his breath.

"Are you here?"

Nothing.

"I think you're here," he admitted and looking around the room quickly, he let his head fall to the table with a groan. Pausing mid aggravated mutter, he stood quickly as an idea came to him. Striding over to the drawers, he looked around once again and started to pull open drawers and cabinets.

"Look," he called out as he riffled through her drawers. "I'm touching your stuff."

Only silence greeted him.

"I think I'm going to go look around the bedroom next," Castle continued and made his way in that direction. "Sleep in the bed," he added. "Snoop through your things—"

"I told you to stay out of my things. They're private," the woman ordered from across the room and Castle turned to face her. He tried to hold back a smile, as she glared at him in frustration.

"Hi," he greeted her a little foolishly and the woman tilted her head to study him. "We need to talk," he said when she remained silent.

"About what?" She wondered.

"I was thinking we could start with how you spend your days."

"What business is it of yours?"

He was getting nowhere.

"Let me start over," he began, waiting for her to argue, but she stared at him. "I'm Richard Castle."

"I'm," the woman's eyes locked onto his and he could see her worry. She turned her head away and then announced triumphantly. "Kate!" She tried to act casual. "I'm Kate."

Rick stared in the direction she had turned and noticed the coffee mug in the open cabinet. The white mug was clearly labeled in bold black print 'Kate'. "But you didn't know that," he murmured to himself and met her eyes with his. "You had to read it from the coffee mug."

"I think I know my own name," Kate bit out, angry, but he could tell the anger wasn't aimed directly at him.

He decided to try a new approach. "Okay, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Some homeless guy going through my things," she retorted and Castle narrowed his eyes. He felt the need to remind her that he wasn't homeless, as he was renting the apartment, but refrained.

"Do you remember talking to anyone else besides me?"

"Of course I do."

"When?" He asked, sure she was lying, but not sure how he could read her so well already. And not really sure he wanted to find out.

"When what?"

Castle sighed. "When and to whom have you spoken with besides me?"

"Whom?"

Kate's face was blank.

"That's what I'm asking," he lifted his arms, agitated, and then dropped them to his sides again.

"Yes, I understood the context," Kate finally answered. "No one really uses the word "whom"."

Castle, muttering, "They do if they don't want to butcher the English language," studied her.

"What was your name again?" She asked bluntly and Castle furrowed his brow.

"Castle." He bit out, flustered. "Richard."

Her eyes lost focus, she looked as though she struggled to remember something important, before coming back to the present, her own frustration obvious. Kate focused her attention on him again and he wondered what she saw as she studied him.

Probably a lonely, broken man.

"So," Castle drawled the word out into multiple syllables, hoping she'd take the hint and continue the conversation.

"So?"

Castle groaned and pressed the fingers of his right hand to the bridge of his nose, squeezing, he finally noticed the slight twitch of her lips. Narrowing his eyes, "you're playing me," he said matter of fact.

"Yes."

She agreed, just as seriously.

"Give me a break here Kate," he pleaded, unnerved to realize that for a moment he had forgotten that she could, and probably would, disappear again. Kate chuckled slightly, a laugh from deep in her throat, husky in tone and far too appealing. He took a startling step forward, unable to help himself, and the room went quiet.

They stared at each other, before Kate finally gave in.

"I," she began, wrinkling her brow. "I remember it being morning and… coffee?" It came out as more of a question and Castle wanted to reassure her. But he couldn't. He didn't know her and all of a sudden he was worried. For her. For what this must feel like and what forgetting everything must mean.

He did not want to be worried. He didn't want to feel anything, especially for a woman that was likely to disappear in seconds. He needed her gone, before he got involved.

Any more involved.

"Did anything traumatic happen to you?" he asked abruptly and Kate looked at him, confused with his change in tone.

"Like what?"

"Like, I don't know," he mused and looked away from her eyes. They were too compelling. "Like dying?" He threw the words out there as though they held no particular meaning, as though she didn't have a family, someone that loved her, someone that was grieving from her loss, and for a moment he felt shame.

And he felt like a jackass.

Her beautiful eyes glistened green, _or were they brown_, before they glinted with anger.

At him.

Good.

Anything was better than that brief glimpse of vulnerability.

"I'm not dead!" she finally exclaimed, appalled.

"Sure 'bout that?"

Kate stepped forward, into his personal space, and Castle wanted nothing more than to inhale. He knew that he would feel the immediate comfort from her scent as he had with the pillow from her bed, and that would only make him want her more. There was something compelling that tempted him away from the darkness, from his self-imposed isolation.

But she was impossible.

So he held his breath stubbornly and took a step away, leaving her baffled. The way her face scrunched was adorable, so he judged the distance between them, and took another step back.

"You need to step into the light Kate."

"There is no light," she bit out and rolled her eyes.

"You need to get out of my apartment."

She folded her arms across her chest in non-cooperation. "I'm not going anywhere," Kate said defiantly and Castle clenched his jaw and turned away from her.

* * *

Castle sat slumped on the couch, face carefully blank as he tried to watch television. Tried being the operative word. It was kind of hard to get into a particular show when a crazy woman wouldn't move out of the way.

All but leaning against the flat screen television, Kate studied her cuticle, thumb rubbing at her forefinger. Her expression bored, but also unrelenting.

During the day she'd struck the same pose in the refrigerator when he pulled the door open to grab a beer. She had stared at him, unmoved, as he tossed and turned in the big, comfortable bed. He was certain she smiled when he took a shower in his Superman boxer briefs, but he had avoided any and all eye contact while he'd been (mostly) naked.

Grumbling, Castle shut off the television and slammed the remote control onto the side table harder than necessary. Kate glowered in his direction.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

His blue eyes startled back open when Kate started speaking from right next to him. Almost as if she were reading, she began to recite something, line by line, and Castle narrowed his eyes, trying to place the quote. When it finally clicked he jumped to his feet, feeling smug when she startled slightly backwards, he pushed those feelings aside as unimportant. He needed to get back to what was very important.

"Okay, that's it!" Castle all but yelled. "I tried to be nice. I thought this was even kind of fun at first—a great story—but now you've gone too far."

Kate's eyes widened as she wondered how she managed to reach his apparent limit.

"Patterson!" He all but spat the name and strode across the room to grab his coat.

"Patterson?"

"How come you can quote Patterson, some of his lesser work I might add, but you don't even know your own name?" The question was more baffled rhetoric, than actual curiosity, but Kate answered anyway.

"Kate," she said quietly, but firm. "My name is Kate."

He waved a furtive, dismissive hand in her direction and slammed his way out of the front door. She followed him, stepping through it. "And why are you so against Patterson?" she questioned, perplexed, unwilling to admit that she didn't recognize that name either.

His muttered curses made her smile, as she easily matched his pace along the streets of New York.

* * *

Kate was still surprised, an hour later, as they sat at her kitchen table, Ouija board in the center. Castle rubbed his hands together gleefully and then placed his finger tips on the white cursor. He had actually gone out, gone out of his way even, to purchase the Ouija board.

"You do realize that you are being ridiculous right?" Kate mused as he moved the cursor first to the left, and then the right. "This is a crock."

"…said the ghost," Castle replied.

"Besides," she continued, ignoring him, "You need at least two people to make it work." When he raised his brows at her comment, Kate quickly amended, "not that it works."

Castle continued to move the cursor over the letters, and Kate dropped her head to her left palm, bored. "Plus, I'm already talking to you. Who else do you want to show up?"

Shocked, he looked up and into her amused eyes. Then he pushed the board away in disgust because she was right. Kate smiled in victory, but felt nervous when he looked at her and grinned.

The priest had been a little much, Castle could admit.

But when Kate only rolled her eyes at the Holy Water being thrown all over her floor, he had dropped his head into his hands.

"Ryan would love this," she mused and Castle looked toward her in confusion.

"Who's Ryan?"

Kate shrugged. "Beats me," she told him seriously and Castle wondered how that must feel, forgetting everything and everyone. Admitting defeat with the priest came soon after. He would think of something else.

She groaned in disbelief behind him a half hour later. So the holy water hadn't worked, but the three men with proton packs wandering around his living room definitely would.

He was sure of it.

Ten minutes later, Castle was annoyed as the men seemed to get readings from everywhere except for Kate. When one of them slammed a popcorn bowl onto the counter and slid a piece of cardboard under it carefully Kate chuckled. Castle, unable to hide his own amusement, smiled in her direction. "Sure that's it?" he called out to them.

"Yeah, right here Sir," the man in charge lifted the bowl and cardboard carefully. "I'll just go and secure it," he told Castle seriously and Castle turned to Kate as the man walked into the bathroom.

And a toilet flushed.

"Say it," he begged, still smiling. "I know you want to."

"I don't want to say it Castle," Kate told him seriously.

"For me," he tried again. "Please."

Something about his tone appealed to her, and she wanted to make him happy. Biting back a smile, Kate took a step toward him and said, "I ain't afraid of no ghost…busters."

Castle let out a happy sigh, "Thank you."

Kate pursed her lips, but he saw through the faux annoyance.

All her humor fled when, an hour later, a red headed woman stood in the middle of her living room. Not sure what to make of her, Kate crossed her arms, and waited. Castle had said he'd met the woman in the bookstore and had claimed her mother had been a famous Psychic Medium.

"I recognized the name, but it took me longer than it should have," Castle had told her. "Penny's mom was Vivien Marchand. She was the one to tell me about you coming to stay with me," he had continued, assuming she understood his reference. She didn't.

And if this Penny woman took advantage of Castle she would—

"I feel the spirit," the woman finally said, quietly, and Kate turned to stare at her, skeptic. Castle looked on gleefully, because for the first time he believed that perhaps he wasn't going crazy. If Penny could sense Kate as well, that made everything about this situation a little more bearable.

"She's angry," Penny continued, and tilted her head to the side slightly. "And jealous."

Kate scoffed.

Castle was even more interested. "About what?"

"She doesn't want me here."

"This is ridiculous," Kate burst out. "I'm not jealous and she's just making this up."

Castle wasn't so sure. "I didn't tell her you were a woman."

"50/50 chance that I am," Kate muttered and then realized that this Penny woman was following their conversation. "This has gone too far Castle. I want my apartment back, I want my life back, and most importantly I want this woman gone! I'm sick of playing this game."

"You should move," Penny stated bluntly and Castle smiled before realizing she meant him.

"Me? Why should I have to move?"

Kate moved to stand by the woman, immediately changing her opinion. "I like her. You should listen to her Castle."

"I'm not moving," he grumbled.

"Then you have to deal with this. She's not going anywhere and I don't think she's dead. Hers is the most alive spirit I've ever encountered."

"She's good," Kate nodded approvingly.

"That's the darkest aura I've ever seen. You have to deal with this," Penny urged him. "You have to let her go."

"How can I when she won't leave?"

Penny looked toward him, pity in her eyes. Kate studied him as well, wondering when the conversation had switched gears to him. Let who go?

"Not Kate," Penny said bluntly and neither was sure how she knew Kate's name. Castle had not said it. "The one in here," she held a hand up to her heart. "That's what's really haunting you, isn't it?"

Castle opened his mouth to respond, astonished that this woman could know that. He had kept as much as he could out of the papers. He didn't and hadn't wanted anyone to know. He hadn't wanted anything to go wrong. But he was, is, mourning.

"Oh I get it," Kate blurted out. "You were dumped. Probably for some guy that doesn't have a beer can fused to his hand or a couch fused to his ass."

"Shut up!" he spat.

"What, you can't take it? You bring in a priest and the Ghostbusters to take me out and you can't handle a little teasing?" She was being deliberately cruel, but he had a legendary reputation as a playboy. Or at least he had earlier in his career…

_Wait, what?_ Kate thought urgently. Why would she think that about Castle? How would she know that? Was it true?

"You shut the hell up! You have no idea what you're talking about," Castle yelled and strode from the room, angrily swiping at his face.

"I'm sorry for your loss!" Penny called out to his retreating form and Kate paled visibly, immediately remorseful. "He's mourning," Penny explained unnecessarily. Kate nodded and then realized the other woman couldn't see her, she wasn't even sure if she could hear her.

But then Penny turned to where Kate was standing and spoke again, "sometimes I have dreams that are meaningful. Last night I had a dream about you," she continued and Kate turned to gape in her direction.

Not really sure what to say to that, Kate decided on "Okay."

"And I can't really explain why, but I feel very strongly that I'm supposed to tell you something. Something important. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready"

"Alexander."

"Alexander?"

"Alexander," Penny repeated. "I don't know who he is or what he means to you."

"I don't know any Alexander," Kate told her and frowned because she was buying into all of this. For a moment Kate wondered if she was invisible and crazy. "I mean, I don't think I do. I can't really remember much."

"You will. You will meet an Alexander and he will be extremely important to you. At some future date he may save your life."

Kate stared at her and bit her lip. "Okay. Um, good to know,"

Penny sighed happily, "Thank you. I wish I could give you a hug."

Kate wasn't too sure how to feel about that. The woman was very strange, but almost in an endearing sort of way. "Thank you Penny."

The other woman smiled, nodded in the direction Castle went. "He needs you too." And with that last parting shot, Penny left. Kate bit her lip and before she knew what she was doing, she went in search of Castle. To apologize and to ask for his help.

* * *

Let me know what you think...


	4. Chapter 4

_**Just Like Heaven**_

* * *

Looking up at the man sitting despondently on the top of her stairs, Kate let out a breath and made her way towards him. He looked lonely, and broken, and familiar to her. Something about this man pulled at her, something about him made her heart pound and scream with recognition. Kate felt as though she was meant to meet him.

Alive would have been preferable.

Not understanding her irrational feelings toward this virtual stranger, she pushed them aside, and climbed the stairs in her apartment slowly. Taking a seat next to him, she paused a moment before admitting, "I'm sorry Castle."

When he looked over at her, into her, she continued. "It occurred to me that I really don't know anything about you."

Castle looked away and she watched his jaw clench, as he held back whatever he wanted to say.

"I got this place for the stairs," Kate continued to talk to him, uncaring that he wasn't conversing back. "A little unconventional as a bookcase," she admitted with a laugh and keeping her eyes on the man beside her, she touched the spine of the Tolstoy novel she knew was a step down.

"My last apartment exploded," she commented off handedly, wanting his eyes back on hers. It worked. Startled blues met her amused hazel and Kate fought to hold back a smile. "Gas leak," she explained and then narrowed her eyes, "I mean, I think. It's weird the things I seem to remember as certainties."

"She's not dead," Castle, finally speaking, admitted to a certainty no one else seemed to believe.

"I'm truly sorry Castle," Kate began, unsure of how to even broach the subject. "Do you want to tell me what happened? Sometimes talking about it helps," she told him softly, and couldn't help but feel hypocritical. Kate had a feeling she wasn't that great at opening up either.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it!" Castle bit out and stood. He looked down at her, anger, but grief more than that, in his cold eyes.

"Anger helps too," Kate murmured and he scoffed and stomped his way down the steps. He snatched his coat from the hook on the wall and, facing the door, told her "Alexis. Her name is Alexis. My daughter."

The front door slammed behind him as he left Kate there, still sitting on the steps, mouth open. He had a daughter. He was grieving for his daughter, for a daughter that could be dead. The fact that he didn't believe, that he wouldn't give up on her, more than anything, made her realize the kind of man Richard Castle was.

Loyal, and loving, and so many other words came to mind.

He deserved to be happy, and Kate wanted to help him any way she could.

Worried, she followed him.

* * *

Before he could step through the door to the Old Haunt, Kate slapped a hand to the frame of the doorway. "Don't do this Castle," she implored. "You can't drink the pain away."

"Watch me," he argued and when she moved her arm with a sigh, strode through the crowd and over to the bar. He was greeted by a few of the other patrons and when Kate followed him, and took the open stool next to him, he grumbled slightly under his breath.

"I think I know this place," Kate mused and looked around the room. "I have definitely been here before."

"I own it," Castle said nonchalantly and smiled in thanks when the bartender set the scotch in front of him. Kate turned to study him a moment, marveling at the fact that he was wealthy enough to own a bar when it seemed to her that he didn't even have a job.

"Why would you remember this?" He asked bluntly, uncaring when a few people stared at him, confused, obviously wondering why he was talking to himself.

"I'm not sure Castle, but I know I've been here."

She watched as his eyes landed on a few people across the room, and then he turned to signal to one of the bartenders. It only took a moment before the server was across the room with complimentary drinks for the two men and woman on the other side of the bar. Kate studied them, something about them so familiar to her.

"You know them?" Kate asked.

"No, but I recognize them. They come in here a lot. Cops, I think," Castle explained. "They look like they needed it."

Needed the alcohol, Kate thought, or the kindness? Once again she found herself surprised by Richard Castle. Ready and willing to help strangers as they obviously struggled through a difficult time.

"You don't," she said bluntly and motioned to the drink in his hand. "You're a good man Castle. You don't need that."

"I don't want to feel anymore."

"That's not healthy Castle."

"I don't care."

He lifted the glass to his mouth and the next thing Kate knew, she was in his body, controlling his arm, not letting him drink. "Stop it," Castle gritted out as his own arm slammed the drink back on the bar. "How are you doing this?" He reached out to take the drink again only to have his left arm stop his right. He struggled with his own body, grunting a little at the effort it took to hold her off.

"You're strong," he muttered and then frowned. "Or is it me that's strong?" Castle looked around at everyone staring at him, amusement in some eyes, pity in others, and he couldn't take it anymore. He allowed Kate to force his body out through the exit and on the sidewalk. As soon as the fresh night air hit him, Kate stumbled out, breathing heavily, and brushed at the arms of her leather jacket.

"Thanks for making me look insane," Castle said sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Kate smiled at him.

"Why are you still here?" He blurted out, shooting an annoyed look at a man and woman who stared at him through the windows of the bar. Castle took off down the street, Kate following behind.

"That's a scary question," she admitted after they walked a few more feet. "I don't know."

Castle used his peripheral vision to study her a moment. For the first time since she appeared again, Kate looked worried and broken. She looked vulnerable. He didn't like it. Taking a seat on a bench, Castle waited for her to sit next to him before he spoke.

"Why am I the only one that can see you?"

"Don't ask me," Kate told him. She was the last person to believe in ghosts and spirits or magic. "All I know is that when I'm not with you, I feel like I don't exist," she admitted and tried not to ponder why that would be. Why he made her feel…whole.

"Maybe I am dead," she acknowledged sadly.

"Oh come on," Castle replied, upset. "I'm sorry I said you were dead. Maybe you're not?" His tone boarded on hopeful.

"If only I could remember who I am," Kate broached the topic that he might not like, that he might agree to. "Maybe then I'd know. I'm trying to figure it out, but I just can't do it alone," she hinted.

Castle remained quiet as Kate avoided eye contact. She hated asking for help. Even with not knowing anything about her life, she knew for a fact that she hated appearing vulnerable to anyone.

"Are you asking for my help?" He enquired softly, and Kate worried that he'd deny her and rushed ahead.

"You have two realities here Castle," she began. "You can help me find out who I am, or you're an insane person sitting alone on a bench talking to himself."

His eyes crinkled with amusement and Kate stared, wanting that expression to last forever. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and looked around. "Wouldn't be the first person in New York that walked down the streets talking to no one Kate," he said dryly. "But I think I still prefer the first option."

Kate smiled at him brightly.

"Where do we start?"

* * *

They knocked on the first door in her apartment building. Kate had suggested that they canvass the area, the terminology surprising Castle at the time and thinking of it now he wondered about it again. But he pushed the thought aside as the first door swung open.

"Can I help you?" An older woman holding a giant cat asked, her security chain still in place.

"Hi, I'm renting the apartment above yours and was wondering if you could tell me anything about the previous tenant?"

The woman frowned up at him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

Kate snorted.

The old woman looked at him, decided he was harmless and sighed. "Not much to tell that I'm aware of. Only moved in a few months earlier. She would go in and out at all hours of the night," her tone suggested she didn't approve.

"Only caught sight of her a few times," the lady lied, Kate knowing immediately that she was the type of nosy neighbor that spent all of her time looking out the peephole of her door. "A looker for sure, but stomped around in high heels at three in the morning."

Kate frowned, and glanced down at her high-heeled boots. She liked them.

"Maybe she was a stripper?" The older woman suggested helpfully and Castle let out a startled laugh when Kate growled.

"Thanks for your help," he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. The door closed, and locked.

"I'm not a stripper."

"Okay."

"Do I look like a stripper?" Kate bit out as they made their way over to the next door. He knew better than to answer that question and raised his hand to knock. A man opened the door and he didn't know anything about Kate either.

As they continued from door to door it became clear to Kate that no one knew her. Hardly anyone even knew that she'd lived there.

"Yeah, she was a babe," the last guy said. "We dated."

Kate seriously doubted that.

Castle must have agreed with her assessment. "I don't think so," he said after a studying moment.

"So maybe I paid—"

"I'm done!" Kate announced and turned away to stalk down the hallway to the last door. Castle shot the guy a glare and followed after her, not bothering to say goodbye to the perverted guy in 8B.

"I'm not a stripper or a prostitute Castle,' Kate spat out angrily and Castle held up his hands as a cease-fire.

He knocked on the door and Kate sighed, wondering what they would find behind this one. "You gotta admit you worked strange hours," Castle added, smirking, and the door swung open before Kate could comment. Or slug him.

A beautiful blonde woman stared at him for a moment, then leaned against the door jamb, intrigued.

"She doesn't seem too bad," Kate mused. "Maybe we were friends?"

"Hey there," the woman all but purred to Castle. Kate frowned.

"Hello, I'm Richard—"

"Richard Castle," she finished and held out a delicate looking hand. "I'm a really big fan." Castle shook her hand, and had to forcefully pull his away when the woman clung. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

"Oh brother," Kate was not impressed.

"Uh, no, thank you," Castle said and quickly continued before the woman could offer anything else to get him inside. He was wary of a certain kind of fan, and she seemed just the type.

"I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the woman living in the apartment I'm currently staying," he asked, getting to the point and hesitantly telling her which apartment.

"I think it was vacant."

Kate glowered.

"Okay, thanks for your time."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to—"

Castle cut her off as Kate turned to stalk away. "I'm late for a meeting, but thanks," he said politely and followed after the only woman who interested him.

"Stop by any time!" The woman called and when he didn't respond pouted and slammed her door. Castle caught up to Kate just as she reached his door. Patting his pockets, Castle groaned.

"What?"

"I locked the key inside."

"Oh, there's a spare behind the fire hose," she pointed to the glass case and Castle looked at her funny before walking over, lifting the hose, and grabbing the spare key. Opening the door Kate walked past him with a sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"It's like I was a ghost before I was dead," she murmured sadly, wondering for a moment why she was even bothering. It sounded like she had no friends, and no life. And that she was probably a stripper.

"Don't say that," Castle said firmly and reached into the refrigerator to take out a beer. "You're not dead."

"How do you know?" She asked, unhappy as she watched him try to twist the cap off. "There's a bottle opener in the second drawer over."

"You can't be dead Kate," he replied and opened the drawer. He paused and then reached in and pulled out scraps of paper. "I think I found a clue."

"What?" Kate wanted to know and moved close to look around him.

"A dry cleaner receipt and a few restaurant menus along with a check for food from a place called Remy's. Hey, I've been there before. They've got the best fries and those—"

"Shakes," Kate finished and bit her lip, craving a strawberry one instantly.

"Yeah," Castle breathed, glanced down at her lips and then took a step back and away from her. He set his beer down, forgotten, and smiled at her.

Kate smiled back. "We should check out those leads."

"Someone has to know you Kate."

She silently hoped that he was right, otherwise, what was the point?

* * *

Thank you to all who read and reviewed. I really appreciate you taking the time to comment. It only takes a few seconds, but it made my day.


	5. Chapter 5

They decided to drop by the dry cleaners first. If Kate were a frequent costumer, the employees may know something more about her, or where she worked. Castle held the door open for Kate and smiled when she thanked him. The man behind the counter watched, frowning, and nervously took a step back when Castle approached. Realizing immediately that the man believed him to be crazy Castle grinned, amused. No one had ever been genuinely afraid of him before and he found it fascinating.

"Just ask him already Castle," Kate said after the awkward silence had lasted more than a minute. He was like a nine-year old on a sugar rush. Since their investigation started she marveled over the fact that the man could take anything seriously.

"Right," he said aloud, which caused the dry cleaner to take a step toward his phone-just in case. "I need to pick up this item," Castle said happily and handed over the dry cleaning ticket. Breathing out a in relief, the other man reached out to take the paper. He put on his eye glasses and frowned down at the slip. Pressing a few buttons on the computer beside him, he shook his head and turned back to Castle.

"Don't have it," he said and Castle frowned.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Castle asked, obviously disgruntled his first lead had all but come crashing down.

"I mean I don't have it," he repeated and focused again on Castle.

"Why not?" Castle and Kate asked simultaneously.

"If I remember correctly, it was a leather jacket, a blouse, and dress pants."

"Yes, I remember now, I love that jacket. It was Doma," Kate looked over at Castle, happy that she remembered something.

"The damage to the clothing was too extensive. I would have tried to get more of the blood and grime out, but they went unclaimed for more than four months, so I tossed them."

"Blood and grime?" Castle gasped, astonished.

"You threw out my jacket?" Kate blurted out at the same time, appalled. "It was my favorite."

Castle tried to ignore her response, tried to focus on the fact that she had blood and grime on work clothes, but couldn't help but look apprehensively in her direction. Kate was missing the point: that she has been wherever she is for longer than four months. Which did not bode well for her situation. "What about the woman? Do you know her?"

The dry cleaner let his gaze drift for a moment, thinking. "Tall, beautiful," he began and Kate sighed. At least he knew her and he was being complimentary, unlike her neighbors. "But sad," he continued and Kate frowned. "She was always friendly and polite, but I couldn't help but notice that she seemed sad and lonely."

"Great," Kate bit out.

"Thank you for your time," Castle told the man and they walked out the door, holding it open for Kate once again. This time she trudged through, depressed.

Wanting to make her feel better, "Still upset about the jacket?" He joked. When she didn't respond he tried another tactic. "Look Kate, he's just a dry cleaner."

"What's the point Castle?"

"The point is, he's just a dry cleaner. They're only neighbors. They don't know you at all Kate because they didn't take the time. I've known you for a week and already I wish I knew more about you. I already hope that I get the chance." Kate stared at him, surprised, and Castle added seriously, "we're going to figure this out together."

"So, Remy's?" Kate asked, thankful for his reassuring presence and bit her lip. "The least I can do is buy you a burger…" she trailed off, smiling when Castle narrowed his eyes. "Oh, wait, I'm invisible," Kate continued and snapped her fingers. "Damn."

"Just for that I'm going to buy a burger and make you watch while I eat it," Castle told her smugly and Kate's smile disappeared. "Damn," she said again, but for an entirely different reason.

* * *

Castle wished he had a picture of her. It would make this process a little easier. And it would be nice to have if she disappeared again. He was getting used to having her around. He appreciated her intelligence, and the comfort her presence brought him.

"How can I help you?" A waitress asked as they stepped inside. She smiled and gave him her full attention even though the restaurant was full.

"I'm actually looking for someone," Castle told her when the waitress, Carol, according to her name tag, reached for a menu.

"Are they already seated?"

"Actually, she probably hasn't been here in a few months, but I know she came here quite often."

"You sound like a stalker Castle," Kate muttered and he quickly realized that she was right, and grimaced slightly as the waitress' eyes grew weary.

He rushed to explain as best he could without sounding crazy. "She's missing and I'm really worried for her safety." Kate rolled her eyes at him and he shrugged because it was the truth. Carol studied him a moment, pursed her lips slightly, and finally made a decision.

"Okay, how can I help?"

"Her name is Kate, she's about—" He held up a hand wear her head would be. "Yay tall."

"5'9"," Kate added helpfully.

"5'9"," he amended and glanced down at her feet. "Most likely wearing heels that make her even taller. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Hauntingly good looks, really smart," he told Carol and her eyes had grown a little misty.

"Castle," Kate murmured, face slightly flushed as he spoke of her. Not sure how to feel about his obvious regard.

"You care about her."

"Yes. I just want to find her."

"I think I know who you're talking about. She's a regular but not in my section," Carol informed him a little sadly. "There was an accident I think. Amanda usually has that section. I remember she was really upset about it."

"Is Amanda here?"

"She'll be in tomorrow. I'm sorry I don't know anything else about Kate, and I hope you find her," Carol finished, reached over to gently squeeze his arm in support. It was obvious that she worried Kate was dead.

She's not.

She can't be dead.

Carol had to get back to work and even though Castle had come into Remy's with the intent of getting a burger to flaunt it in front of Kate, his appetite had gone.

Kate lifted her hand slightly, as if to touch his face, before remembering and lowering it with a frustrated sigh. "Let's go Castle," she said despairingly and they left the restaurant.

A car came barreling down the street, weaving over into oncoming traffic. Car horns bleated in warning, but the vehicle continued at a high-speed before crashing through mail boxes and into a light post. Kate took off before Castle knew what was happening. She turned to look back at him, "Call it in," she ordered as she reached the vehicle and then she looked into the car's front window. Her hand went through the door, having forgotten momentarily that there was nothing she could do for the man inside.

"Castle I need your help," she said firmly as he skidded to a stop beside her, cell phone to his ear. "Open the door and feel for his pulse."

Castle quickly followed orders, and reached over to feel the man's neck just as his phone connected. He looked at Kate, worried. "There's been an accident," he began and told the operator his current location.

"Tell them to send a bus, reported by 41319, and that his pulse is weak. Suspected heart attack," she told him and he repeated it into the phone. "We need to check him out Castle," Kate said, noticing the blood pooling on the floor of the driver's side.

By this point a crowd had gathered, and Castle handed off the phone to an older woman so he could follow Kate's direction.

"Are you a doctor?" He asked Kate, but the older woman shook her head and called out for one. No one rushed forward. Kate looked into his eyes grimly, "I don't think so," she said as she worried her lip. She moved to get a closer look and as the wound on the older man's leg continued to bleed heavily Kate grimaced and said convincingly, "No. Definitely not." She was sure of it.

"What should I do?"

Kate thought quickly and pointed to his pants. "Take off your belt."

He stared at her a moment, gaping, then nodded. "Okay, I'm game," he joked and Kate rolled her eyes.

"You need to wrap it around his thigh as tight as you can Castle," she explained and he rushed to do as she told him. "Tighter," she ordered and Castle grunted with effort. "It should stop the blood flow long enough for help to arrive. I hear the sirens," Kate announced, relieved.

Everything moved quickly after that. Castle explained to the EMT what had happened as they took over. They nodded appreciatively at his makeshift tourniquet and then in a matter of minutes they had taken the man out of the car and had him in the ambulance and on the way to the hospital.

Castle rubbed his face with both hands briskly, and then turned to look at Kate. "That was amazing."

She smiled at him and opened her mouth to speak when the older woman stepped over to him to hand him back his phone. He thanked her for her help and she laughed. "It was my pleasure. I'm a big fan young man. I still can't believe you killed off Storm!" Castle took a step back slightly; afraid she was going to hit him.

It had happened before.

"I'm sorry?" he replied and looked towards Kate out of the corner of his eyes. She was smirking, amused as the scene played out. Castle had a feeling that even if she was not invisible she would still make no move to protect him from this woman if she did decide to hit him.

"You should be sorry, but only because you haven't written anything else. I'm old, I need reading material and I can't live forever to wait for it." She sounded honestly disgruntled.

"I'll get right on it," Castle told her seriously, surprised to realize he meant it.

"Good," she told him. "I'm a big fan. My name's Esther," she continued. "If you ever need a great name for a character."

Castle decided then and there that this woman would go in his next book and smiled as she walked away. He could always use a blunt, ballsy lady, maybe even have her help save the day.

"Fan?" Kate questioned from his side, smiling, bemused.

Disappointed that she could quote Patterson, but didn't seem to recognize his work, he pushed the feeling aside, and stared at her, realizing that there were more important things.

"I'm a mystery novelist."

Kate tilted her head slightly to the side, studying him. "Richard Castle," she murmured and took a step closer.

"Yeah, I—Castle!" He said abruptly and Kate, startled, looked into his eyes, worried he'd hit his head or something. "You call me Castle," he explained. "Why do you call me Castle," he then said more to himself than her.

"That's your name."

"My last name. Who only uses last names? Military?" he racked his brain, searching for clues, for something that was on the forefront of his mind. The number! "What was that number you told me to tell dispatch?"

"What number?"

"41319! You're a cop!" He said almost accusingly. "A cop," he repeated his voice low and admiring.

"Detective," Kate corrected and froze. "Detective?"

"You are so cool!" Castle exclaimed and looked around frantically. "Excuse me!" he called out to one of the uniforms on scene.

"I need your statement sir," the officer told him, holding a notepad.

"Which Precinct is the closest to our location?" Castle asked instead, Kate on his heels.

"The 12th," the officer replied. "Your statement, sir."

"Heard a crash. Saw a car. Helped a man. Ambulance came," Castle said shortly and turned to leave. The officer put a hand to his shoulder to stop him and with a look that clearly said that he wouldn't accept that, Castle groaned and told him everything.

* * *

Castle was almost vibrating with excited energy as they walked into the 12th and he was assigned a visitor's badge by the officer at the front desk.

"I told you I wasn't a prostitute," Kate exclaimed happily and took in her surroundings.

"I was wondering if you could help me," Castle asked the officer. "I'm looking for a detective Kate—" he trailed off hoping the man would continue. The officer just stared at him, waiting. Castle all but pouted. "Her name is Kate. She's tall, beautiful, leather jacket," he wondered how many more times he was going to have to describe her but before he could go through his spiel, before he could think of anymore adjectives, the officer stopped him abruptly.

"Beckett?"

"Yes," Kate called out. "That's my name. My name is Kate Beckett. I worked in homicide," she explained eagerly to Castle. He smiled at her, happy to finally have been able to help her.

"Yes," Castle answered the officer. He frowned slightly, but Castle hardly noticed. He wanted to hug Kate; he wanted to reassure her that they would finally get to the bottom of this. He wanted her to know that he was by her side no matter what.

"Take that elevator to the 4th floor, and I will have a detective meet you there," he told Castle, pointing to the elevator, and then he reached over to pick up a phone. Castle followed his directive and Kate was close behind.

Stepping off of the elevator of the 12th into homicide's bullpen felt like coming home. Kate knew this was where she spent almost all of her time. The familiar surroundings were reassuring. The familiar bustle of officers and detectives as they walked past comforting.

"I know this place Castle," Kate said, reaching out a hand to hover over his arm. Castle turned to face her, studying her joyous face as she took in her surroundings. "That's Karpowski," she pointed to another detective. "And LT," was an officer standing against a wall. "The break room is over there, you don't want to drink that coffee," she advised.

Kate pointed out her desk and Castle wanted desperately to go over there and snoop, but he knew how she felt about him going through her things. He also wanted to ask about the elephants marching along the top, but that could wait. She fascinated him, and astounded him with her courage.

"I really wish I could hug you right now," he blurted out, regret in his tone and Kate's startled eyes met his.

"Yeah," she said on a breath and smiled. "Me too."

Opening her mouth to say, she wasn't sure what exactly, she froze when she spotted Detective Kevin Ryan walking their way.

"That's Ryan," Kate told him with a nod in the other man's direction. Castle felt the tendrils of jealousy press against his chest as he turned to study the other man. Kate had mentioned him earlier, as the priest had tried to douse her in Holy water. "He's a friend," Kate explained, and the pressure receded slightly. "I work closely with him and Esposito."

"Mr. Castle?" Ryan greeted, question in his tone, but also something else.

Sympathy.

"Oh no, he has the face," Kate murmured, really scared for the first time.

"What face?" Castle asked and then shrugged when Ryan looked at him, confused.

"The bad news face you wear for the family of the victims. This isn't good Castle," Kate said and grabbed at her chest as if she could slow the frantic pounding of her heart.

"You knew Detective Beckett?" Ryan asked and motioned for Castle to follow him. They went into the room used to interview family members. "Yes, we were close," Castle replied as he slowly took a seat.

"How close?"

"Pardon?"

"How did you know Beckett?"

"We were dating," Castle said quickly, needing the information, and worried Ryan wouldn't give it to him. "I live in her apartment."

"Castle," Kate argued, taking a seat next to him.

"Building," he finished lamely.

"And you dated?"

Castle couldn't do this, he couldn't take any more time, he couldn't wait, make Kate wait even longer for the truth. He needed to know. "What happened to her?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Castle, I just find your story a little hard to believe. Beckett, Kate, didn't date as far as I know. She spent almost all of her time here."

Kate frowned, wishing other people had more to say about her, wishing her life hadn't been so lonely. She remembered the nights she spent at the 12th, sleeping on the couch when there was no point in going on home to her empty apartment. She remembered the need she felt, the need to find justice for other families because she hadn't gotten the same.

She remembered a case. Her mother's.

Oh God.

Pressing a hand to her stomach she focused again on Castle and Ryan.

"I've been out of the country," Castle explained tiredly, looking at Kate, and feeling his hope dwindling each moment spent with this detective. He didn't want to lose her. "What happened?"

"The case is still ongoing," Ryan began but he must have seen the desolation in Castle's eyes. "I know you," Ryan told him, and thinking of the Old Haunt and his kindness, made a quick decision. "She was shot in the chest."

"Oh my God," Castle said lowly and dropped his head into his hands.

Kate's hand pressed hard against her chest and she could feel it all again. The heat of the bullet as it tore through her. The cold that seeped into her slowly after as darkness clouded her vision. She remembered the diner, lying on the ground alone in her own blood wishing she had done more with her life. She had wished she had someone who would stand by her side, who would be there for her.

Ryan continued, "She was meeting a former Detective in a diner, about an old case as far as we can tell. The sniper was on the building across the street. The bullet killed Raglan, the retired detective, instantly before it struck her in the chest.

Somehow she managed to hold on," Ryan explained, disbelief and pride in his tone. Kate smiled tearfully at him. "She held on just long enough. The doctors went in and repaired the damage done, they did everything they could. The doctor explained that it was normal for a patient with extensive trauma to slip into a coma. Expected, at first, but now Kate just won't wake up," Ryan finished sadly, his blue eyes anguished.

"Which hospital?" Castle asked as if from far away. "Where is she?"

"Presbyterian."

"A coma," Kate said in disbelief and rose to her feet. She walked out of the room without really being aware. Standing suddenly, Castle followed closely behind. "Thank you Detective," he told Ryan in appreciation. "I have to go be with Kate," he said truthfully and followed her out the door.

Ryan, slightly baffled walked out of the room and watched the man rush to the elevator.

"Who was that guy?" Esposito asked.

"Boyfriend."

"Whose?"

"Beckett's."

A sudden wave of sadness, as Ryan had also been feeling talking about their friend, engulfed Esposito. But he pushed through. "Beckett didn't have a boyfriend," Esposito told him, disbelief and suspicion in his tone.

"That was him," Ryan said, sure of it now. That man cared about Kate. He knew that for a fact. "You know, it's a shame: she finally meets a great guy and this happens."

"She'll pull through," Esposito said firmly and Ryan only nodded, hoping his partner was right. "Come on man, a body dropped, we have a job to do."

* * *

Stop on by, leave a review, come and knock on my door (but not really)...(and also, the theme to Three's Company is now stuck in your head. You're welcome.)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The hospital was busy, but hospitals usually were. The nurse, harried, but surprisingly helpful when Castle explained that he was here to see Katherine Beckett. She was very accommodating when she'd shown him to Kate's room, and full of sympathy when she'd left him in the doorway promising him a few minutes alone.

Waiting until the nurse had walked away, Castle strode into the room, Kate right behind him. "Oh my God, look Kate, it's you." He rushed forward to her bedside. She was lying there on the hospital bed, silent and unmoving, but she was also standing right beside him.

"You're alive," he breathed out. "You're not dead," he said reassuringly, but when Castle looked over at her, she was staring at the monitors, sorrow in her eyes.

"I'm in a coma Castle," Kate spoke finally. "This is not good. I should have been awake by now."

"You're breathing and you're beautiful Kate."

Kate flushed slightly, grateful for his compliment, but there was no satisfaction for her. The mystery now solved, she no longer was left in doubt to her identity. She knew who she was. She was Detective Katherine Beckett. She was a daughter to Jim and Johanna Beckett. She was co-worker and friend to the boys at the 12th and Lanie. Most of all, she was a woman so obsessed with the past that she no longer had a future. So involved in trying to solve her mother's murder, she had forgotten to live.

Looking at Castle, she wondered what would have happened had they met under different circumstances. He was a good man, willing to help when anyone else would have turned away. He was willing to put his life on hold to support her in any way that he could. He was funny and kind-hearted and she was lucky. She was lucky to have stumbled around long enough for a chance to get to know him.

But not lucky enough.

She was in a coma and there was nothing anyone could do.

No, she thought frantically. She didn't want to die before she lived. There had to be something that she could do.

"What now Kate?' Castle asked as she looked around the room wildly.

"I don't know, maybe if I lay down on the bed I'll stick," she finally suggested, but was very skeptical that it would work. Castle looked thrilled with the idea and watched eagerly as she moved to stand beside the hospital bed where her body lay. Kate looked over at him, noticed his obvious glee and rolled her eyes. Climbing on the bed, Kate swung both of her legs up and lay flat. She disappeared into her body.

"It worked!" Castle exclaimed, and then frowned when Kate popped up with an excited "yeah?" She looked around frowning when she realized her body was still lying on the bed and she was still a ghost.

Castle motioned with his hands for her to try again. "It seemed to work," he muttered studying both of her forms and she lay down and popped back up multiple times. Finally with a disheartened sigh Kate jumped off of the bed, accepting that she had failed. There was no way for her to just magically connect with her body.

"It's no use Castle, I just can't seem to stick."

"You're not giving up Kate," he told her firmly, unwilling to accept defeat. "You're alive. I know you can wake up."

Kate nodded, but didn't respond any further. Instead, she turned away from her body to study the flowers along her window sill. Reaching out, she tried to delicately trace the petal of a sunflower, her face crumpling when her finger went through it. Grateful that Castle couldn't see her moment of vulnerability, even more so when he changed the subject.

"I should have brought you flowers. If I'd known you were starting a flower shop, I would have."

He always seemed to know what she needed.

She chuckled a little. "I think they're from the Precinct. If I make it through this Castle, they're never going to let me live this down," she said lightly, a little smile chasing away her sorrow for the moment, just thinking about Ryan and Esposito and all the grief they'll give her.

Moving to stand beside her Castle pointed, "This is a great picture," he told her and traced the frame with his finger. It was a picture of a younger Kate tying her skating shoes at an ice rink. Her hair in a side braid, a wide smile on her face, she all but glowed.

"My father must have brought it over," she mused and then fell silent, unwilling to get into just what that picture represented to her. "I need a silver lining right about now Castle," Kate admitted and looked at him pleadingly.

"You're still here Kate. There has to be a reason for that," he said immediately willing to be her rock, the foundation of her hope for a future. "I know that it looks bad, but you're still here."

Kate nodded, but her eyes shifted away.

Walking away from her, Castle moved to stand by her body. "I have an idea," he said and Kate raised her brow. "Turn around Kate," He advised and she only frowned, refusing to look away. Kate crossed her arms across her chest, the leather jacket pulling slightly, and intimidating.

"Don't do anything weird to my body Castle," she objected and Castle narrowed his eyes and waited for her to turn around. A clear stand-off until Castle finally gave in, softening his eyes as he pleaded, "Please Kate, I promise I won't do anything bad."

She still looked skeptical, but when he quietly said "Trust me," Kate turned to face out the window, studying the big city beyond. Castle hesitated momentarily, before slowly reaching out to the hand lying on the hospital bed. Pausing for a moment, he then took her hand gently in his and caressed the top with his thumb with slow circles.

"Castle!" Kate exclaimed with a gasp as she turned. She looked at the hand he was holding and then down to her own. "I can feel that Castle," she told him, excited. "I can feel you holding my hand."

He smiled and stared into her eyes, gratified.

"Castle," she said his name again as she took a step closer, her voice husky and unsure.

"Right," he quickly dropped the hand he had still been caressing. Kate opened her mouth to object the loss of contact, to explain that she didn't mind, that she enjoyed him holding her. She opened her mouth to admit that she wished she had met him earlier, and that she wished he could hold her for real. She wished she could experience his warm embrace. Kate opened her mouth to let him in, to show him a part of her that no one else had seen before, made up of all her wants and dreams and wishes. But as her tongue pressed to her lips to speak, the nurse came striding into the room.

"I'm sorry Mr. Castle, but visiting hours are over."

It was probably for the best, Kate thought. What could she possibly give him besides more heartache?

"I understand," Castle told the nurse, but continued to stare into Kate's eyes. "Can I just have another moment to say goodbye?"

The nurse hesitated, but caved in. "Make it quick."

"I promise," he replied, sincerely, and then waited for the young woman to leave the room. "You're still connected to your body Kate. You can still wake up."

"Thank you," she told him, sincerely. "I would have never gotten this far without you."

"We can look up—"

"No Castle," Kate said firmly, coming to a decision. "You've already done enough."

"I'm going to have to leave," he told her, thinking of the nurse. "Want me to wait in the lobby?"

"No, Castle, that's really sweet, but I should stay with my body."

Castle wanted to protest, and it took everything he had within him to hold it back. Kate deserved to get everything she wanted. And now it was obvious that she needed some time alone. He hoped to see her again; he hoped she knew that he needed to see her again. That he wanted to see her every day. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but she cut him off before he could make her any promises.

"Thank you for helping me," she said and it was a sort of goodbye. A sendoff he didn't want to make, but this wasn't about him. So instead of arguing, instead of pleading with her to let him stay, to let him come back, he said, "Always."

Kate looked up at him, her eyes tender and smiling.

The nurse stepped back in and Castle murmured, "Until tomorrow." He couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to her. He walked out the door as Kate whispered her response.

"Goodbye."

* * *

Castle strode into his apartment, dark and empty. "Hello?" He called out, hoping, but knowing Kate wasn't there. Castle walked into the kitchen, disappointment in every step when there was no response. He looked around again and opened a drawer, shuffling the papers inside, waiting for her to yell at him for going through her things.

The apartment was silent.

He moved toward the refrigerator, and pulling the doors open, stared at the contents. He reached out to grab the bottle of scotch, but froze halfway there. He made a decision. Instead of grabbing the scotch he reached in and began to pile all the alcohol, beer and liquor, into his arms and then turned to set the bottles on the counter. Twisting the top off of the first bottle he dumped the contents down the sink, smiling as he thought of how Kate would react. He didn't know her complete story, and she would stay a mystery, but he knew she would be proud of him.

He didn't need the alcohol.

He wanted to feel again, even if all he felt was sadness and pain. At least he was alive.

He stood at the sink until each container was empty, and then turned back to the refrigerator to make another choice. Taking out the eggs and cheese, the bacon and sausage, Castle, determined to start living again.

And the first step was an omelet.

* * *

Kate had wanted to call him back the moment Castle stepped from the room. She refrained from doing so, but barely. It wasn't because she wanted time away from him; it wasn't even because she never wanted to see Castle again. She did. She wanted to see him all the time.

And that was the problem.

Unfair that she lay in a coma, unfair that she might not wake up, Kate reasoned that it would be even more unfair to get any more attached to the writer. She liked him. Castle had some personal issues already. Not sure what had happened with his daughter, Kate knew she wouldn't add to his burdens. So she had let him walk out of her life.

Her life?

Scoffing, Kate paced the room in agitation. There had to be a way to get back into her body. If she thought long and hard enough she knew she could come up with something. Walking over to the door, Kate paused, glancing once more at her unconscious form on the bed; she passed through the door in search for answers. This was a hospital, and maybe she wasn't the only one in a coma. Maybe there was someone here who could help her?

It didn't hurt to try.

She had time.

Wandering the hospital floor levels was eerie when no one could see her. And hospitals were surprisingly unprofessional. Kate counted at least three affairs. She'd come across something she hadn't wanted to see in a stock room, and groaned as a doctor and nurse went at it in the break room. All hospitals couldn't be like this. Kate wondered fleetingly if she'd been sucked into a television episode as well as being shot.

"Ridiculous," She said out loud, talking to herself. It didn't really matter because she had been through every floor of this hospital and had made zero progress. No one else could see or hear her. Trekking her way back down to her floor, Kate grew even more depressed. She needed to think of something else.

As she passed by the maternity level, Kate paused, looking into the room filled with new-born babies. She felt a longing creep into her all of a sudden, so powerful and deep a want and need for a family of her own, that it startled her back. She needed her future. And as silly and quick as it seemed, she wanted that future to involve Castle. There was a reason he was the only one who could see her. There was a connection present between them.

And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

* * *

Castle savored the last bite of his omelet. Unfortunately, he hadn't had everything necessary to make a s'morelete, but he decided to go to the grocery store the next day. The egg and bacon were delicious. His body felt better after having real sustenance.

As he cleared away the dishes, Castle stared off into space. Lost in his mind, in the inner working of his brain where stories took shape. For the first time in months, he felt like writing. And he knew exactly who he wanted to write about.

* * *

Kate sat slumped in the chair beside her own hospital bed, her body still unconscious and unmoving next to her. She racked her brain for ideas, wished furtively that she had even one. But she had sat here now for what seemed like hours and was just as invisible.

An hour ago, she had taken the time to read the cards she could see clearly, in the bouquets of flowers. Most had been from the precinct. The bright sunflowers were from Lanie, not astonishing at all. Her friend the medical examiner worked with death, for death, every day, but she certainly knew how to live.

Deciding to go back to Castle had been easy, but she wanted come up with a plan, an idea so that seeing him again was no longer hopeless. Kate worried her lip, and just about to give up and go home to him, her ears picked up on steps walking into her room.

"Castle?" Kate asked, wanting desperately to see him again, but also angry for him for disobeying her.

The voice that replied was as familiar to her as her own. It wasn't Castle, but almost as comforting to hear.

"Hi Katie."

"Dad," Kate breathed out, studying her father as he made his way over to her bedside. He looked horrible. Disheveled and distraught, but more importantly, sober. Kate hadn't wanted to think about her father, or what he was going through. After her mother's murder he'd drowned himself in the bottle. Kate had wondered if she had already lost him. But here he was, sad but aware. Kate moved to stand next to him, she wanted to embrace him, to reassure him that she was still here.

"Dad I'm so sorry," she apologized, but knew he couldn't hear her. It was her fault he was so broken. Kate had pushed, and pushed, trying to solve her mother's murder. For many years she had given everything she had to the case. She had lost herself in murder and had now only found herself in death.

"I'm still alive," Kate argued with her subconscious. "I still have a chance."

"Mr. Beckett," a tall, dark-haired man said from the doorway. Her doctor, she assumed. Jim tore his grief tear filled eyes away from her and focused on the other, younger man. "I needed to go over something with you," he started slowly, weary of Jim's reaction. Her father stepped closer to him, and then turning to look at Kate, motioned that he would prefer to discuss whatever it is out in the hallway.

Kate followed close behind.

"Mr. Beckett, your daughter has been in a comatose state now for over six months. Usually we go over the paperwork right away, but your daughter's case was different. As an officer of the law we made an exception for one of our heroes of New York. We really thought she would be awake by now, but the damage to her insides was extensive."

"What are you trying to say Doctor?" Jim asked, his tone grim and harsh, waiting for the other man to get to the point. Kate frowned, wondering what was coming.

The doctor sighed and held out his hands, palms up, as if asking for forgiveness for what he was about to say. "While we were, and still are, willing to have her here, are you familiar with the artificially prolonging life form?"

"No," Kate whispered.

Jim drew in a startled breath. "I'm a lawyer," he said softly and knew. "Of course I know what it is."

"Then you should know that your daughter was against prolonging hers through machines."

Kate stepped in front of her father, wishing he could see her, wishing he could hear her or that she could touch him, or shake him. "I'm all for it now Dad!" She argued. "Of course I want to stay on life support. I didn't know," she trailed off.

"I didn't know," Kate repeated.

The doctor continued. "Because she has already been resuscitated, and she's on the ventilator, ultimately the final decision is up to her Durable Power of Attorney."

"Me."

"You," the doctor confirmed unnecessarily. "Mr. Beckett, Katherine wanted—"

Jim cut him off, "I'll think about it."

There was an awkward pause, but the doctor nodded in understanding. "We would like your decision by noon on Friday," he told him, sympathy in his tone, and walked away.

"Don't do it Dad," Kate said hoarsely, but already knew what he would decide. "I'm still here," Kate continued brokenly, but she knew it was over. She was running out of time. Whispering goodbye to her father, she walked away.

There was really only one place she wanted to be.

* * *

Castle wished, not for the first time, that he had met Kate Beckett before this moment. He knew that she would have made just as big of an impact had he met her at the precinct.

Or on the street.

Or at a coffee shop.

He knew for a fact that this motivation he felt now, this need to base a character off of her, would have engulfed him even then. He wished she were here to get flustered about the character he had rolling around in his head. A female detective: tough, but also vulnerable with hauntingly good looks. He would also make her kinda slutty, because he was a man, and this was his novel.

He imagined Kate's face, how it would have looked on at him, horrified as he forced his way into the precinct to do research. As a friend to the mayor he could talk his way into shadowing her. He imagined her being annoyed, but giving in.

Thoughts trailing off, Castle realized that none of that could happen. He had to find a way to get Kate back, whether it was invisible or back into her body he had to find a way. Walking into the other room, he moved to the shutters of the far window, thinking moon light would be nice.

But as he opened the shutters, his mouth dropped open. It was a murder board and the name at the top read Johanna Beckett. This was her mother's case. Stabbed, and left for dead in an alleyway. Murdered. There wasn't much to go on, it was still unsolved. Castle saw that the reports claimed 'random gang violence', but it was just as obvious that Kate didn't buy it. A picture of a man named Coonan was under the column labeled suspects. Coonan, a contract killer, had gotten away a little over a year before. Right before Kate had realized he was the man hired to kill her mother.

"Oh Kate," Castle released a breath full of sympathy. This was why she was so focused, this was one of the reasons she, maybe _the_ reason she, had become a cop. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her; a million ideas and stories to fill in the blanks. He wanted desperately to help her solve this case. He wanted desperately to do it for her, but now she needed her life back. Castle knew he could help her. He was the only able to see, and there had to be a reason for that. So, reluctantly, he closed the shutters and trudged over to the books he'd purchased days before. Something had to help her.

Then there was a knock at the door.

* * *

I am seriously in awe of all of the reviews from the last chapter. I think that's the most I've ever gotten. I want to (and will) thank each and every one of you, but for now know you have my heartfelt appreciation. Let me know what you think about this one...


	7. Chapter 7

Opening the door, Castle didn't know who he expected to find behind, but the woman standing in his doorway would have never made even the longest list of guesses. Even though it was silly to hope that it was Kate Beckett, he had wanted it to be her. He tried to set aside his disappointment as he studied the woman before him. Castle remembered meeting her years ago, and if he were completely honest, remembered avoiding her after that.

"Kristina?"

"Richard Castle," Kristina Cottera all but purred and pushed her way into his apartment without an invitation. Castle stared at her, confused. "You are one hard man to track down."

Staring another moment at the dark-haired reporter in front of him, he tried to think of any ignored messages from Paula that may have set up this meeting without his permission. "Why did you find it necessary to track me down?"

She laughed, low and deep, and maybe seductively, it was hard to tell when he could only hear Kate's voice, and Kate's laugh; when he only wanted to hear Kate's laugh and her voice. Kristina seemed to realize that she would have to press her advantage a little more and stepped toward him.

"I heard about the accident," she replied.

Castle frowned, wondering fleetingly what she was talking about. Before his mind chanced to venture too far off course, Kristina explained.

"Today," she said almost abruptly, annoyed that she couldn't seem to keep his attention. "I heard you saved a man's life."

_Oh_.

"Oh," he replied and shrugged. "I did what anyone would do," Castle told her sincerely, trying to distance his involvement as to avoid any more questions.

"My viewers want to know all the juicy details Richard," Kristina purred again and held up a picnic basket. "I brought dinner: oysters, and wine. We could discuss it while we…indulge."

Eyes all but bulging as the woman in front of him left no doubt about where she wanted this night to go, Castle frantically tried to think of a way to kick her out, without coming off like a jerk. A year ago, he might have taken her up on her offer. He was different then, hadn't really liked who he was. But that was before Alexis….

That was before Kate.

Not even the slightest bit tempted, Castle opened his mouth to politely decline her offer, and to make up plans he didn't have just to get her out of his apartment. Kristina leaned in close, her breath near his ear and whispered, "Can I use the restroom?"

Castle stepped back as if burned and cleared his throat, pointing in the direction she needed. Thanking him, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving behind a stunned, but upset Castle. How in the Hell had she gotten his address? He would have to talk to Paula about that. It was unacceptable.

At the moment it was more important to decide on a way to kick her out of his apartment, than it was berating his agent. It was important to get her out, so that Castle could figure out a way to make Kate let him back in. He wouldn't leave her alone, no matter what she decided. Castle looked around a little frantically, hoping to find some sort of excuse and his eyes landed on the phone. He could pretend to get a call and have to leave. All but leaping toward the device on the table in the kitchen, Castle gave a startled yelp as Kate walked through the door.

"Kate!" Castle gasped, beyond happy to see her face again.

"Castle," she mimicked in a drawl, wondering at his flushed face, and the white knuckled grip he had on the phone. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said quickly and then shot a look towards the bedroom. Kate furrowed her brow and took a step in that direction. "No!" He called out frantically, not wanting her to go any farther.

"What?" She asked confused.

"What was that Richard?" Kristina called out from the bathroom and Kate narrowed her eyes in that direction before turning her glare on Castle.

"That was fast," Kate replied, trying to hide the bitterness she felt. She knew there was a connection, had hoped that he felt it too.

Castle shook his, denying whatever conclusion Kate had come to. "No Kate, you don't understand. She's just using the bathroom."

Kristina called out his name again.

"Are you almost done in there?" He called out in reply, annoyed.

"Sounds like she's in the bedroom."

"I need your help," Kristina said, and Castle didn't want to think about what she needed his help with.

"No," Castle denied both Kate and Kristina. "Why would she be in the bedroom?" He whispered urgently and Kate gave him a look that quickly turned to surprise when he continued to look flustered, but also confused. He really had no idea what was going on here. Walking over to her bedroom, Kate looked inside and then turned stunned eyes to him.

"Is that Kristina Cottera?"

The things she remembered, he thought with a grimace.

"Yes," he said slowly, unsure where she would go with this.

"Isn't that the reporter who shows up to cover stories in her bikini?"

Castle stuttered, "I didn't... Is that…."

Kate looked amused. "You want to try that again, only make it more convincing?"

Castle thought about that for a second or two and then shook his head. "No. I'm good."

Kate studied him, amusement making her hazel eyes twinkle, and then turned back to look at the reporter currently in their bedroom, his bedroom, she amended mentally. Yeah, it was definitely Kristina Cottera, Kate thought bemused, studying the woman lying across the bed in only a bikini. With a muffled laugh she turned to meet Castle's panicked eyes with her own.

"What's she doing?"

"You really want to know?" When he shook his head negatively, Kate walked away from the entryway and into the other room. She wanted to know what that woman was doing here. She wanted to know if he wanted her here. Then her thoughts turned toward her own situation and she wanted to know if he liked the fact that she had come back to him. Or would he be upset?

Castle had started to follow her. "Kate?" He asked questioningly, worry for her in his tone.

"Richard," Kristina exclaimed and marched out of the bedroom in her coat. "I was waiting for you," she said throatily and whipped the coat off, revealing her red bikini. Castle blinked at her, and then fell backwards when the woman strode up to him and slapped her hands on his chest. They tumbled on the couch and Castle groaned in pain when his hip connected with the table as they rolled off. Kristina tried to kiss him, but Castle turned his head, desperately seeking out Kate.

But she was already walking out of the room. "Kate!" He called out; hoping she didn't disappear again and Kristina paused and looked down at him. "Kristina," she reminded him and he muttered, pushing her gently off him. Castle scrambled up to his feet, swooped her coat into his hands, and shoved it at her, looking away the entire time. "Look, Ms. Cottera, you're very nice, but I'm not available."

Her eyes were sharp and even more interested when they met his. But no longer interested in him, Castle thought with relief. She was interested in the story. Not wanting to tell her about Kate, he made it clear that he was taken, surprised to realize he meant it, and instead gave her the exclusive on the accident. It didn't take long to hustle her out, and as soon as the door slammed closed on her smiling face, Castle went in search of Kate.

* * *

Sitting on the patio outside, Kate leaned over to try to smell the flowers in planters along the wall, turned to look at Castle when he walked through the door. She tried a smile, but Castle saw right through it. "That was fast," Kate mused, referring to his lack of prowess in the bedroom and Castle chuckled. She was jealous. He couldn't help but feel thrilled at the idea of Kate Beckett being jealous.

Kate liked him.

Remembering that she was currently lying on a hospital bed in a coma only put a little damper on that fact. "Come on Kate, you know nothing happened," he said reassuringly and took the seat beside her. She nodded, believing him, but then wrinkled her nose slightly, "I just keep seeing her boobs," Kate paused and looked at him, her face still creased in disgust. She lifted her hands, and motioned at him, "in your face."

Castle stared at her, unsure of his response and then decided on, "You sound jealous."

"Me jealous?" Kate asked in surprise. "Please," she bit out and pursed her lips. Castle smiled softly, a wave of tenderness for her engulfing him.

"Kate?" he waited for her to look back into his eyes, before he admitted solemnly, "I didn't think I was ever going to see you again."

Kate sighed, all frustration with him and Kristina Cottera dissipating.

"I missed you," Castle continued softly.

"Oh Castle, it would have been better if you just slept with her."

Castle didn't know exactly what she expected him to say to that, or where her thoughts had taken her, but he knew he wanted to make one thing absolutely clear: "Kate I wouldn't have slept with her."

Sighing, Kate leaned her head back to look up at the stars, before she closed her eyes. "I know, but this, us, it just won't work."

"Why not?"

"I'm in a coma," she said the words slowly, as if he'd forgotten.

Waving aside her reasoning in a dismissive hand when she looked over at him, he said instead, "Hey, we're going to get this done. You and me."

Looking into his eyes, Kate knew he meant every word. He was so adamant that this would work out, that they could beat the odds. She allowed a little smile to break through her sorrow, couldn't help doing that around him, before she decided to tell him what had shaken her faith in finding a resolution. "I was in the hospital and no one could see me, no one could hear me. I was so alone Castle, and I just wanted to be noticed. My dad dropped by..."

Castle knew, as a son, as a father, what that must have done to her. "Oh, Kate," he all but breathed out, and laid a hand on the arm of her chair. He waited for her to continue, knowing something else must had occurred to affect her even more deeply.

"The doctors told him that he had to decide whether to take me off of the ventilator," Kate told him abruptly, blunt and straight to the point. In all her years as a cop, what she could remember of them, Kate had discovered that news like this was best delivered that way: quick.

Shaking his head in denial, "he wouldn't do that, right?"

Kate wanted to reassure him, but she had always been logical and disbelieving in magic. And what else could help her now, but a miracle? "I'm not so sure Castle. I have an advanced healthcare directive. I'm a cop. I always thought I would take a bullet, and I was against machines keeping me alive."

"But you're still here!"

"I know that now, Castle."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"All I know, is that I needed, wanted to be with you. Can we just, be together, and forget about everything for a while. Can you tell me about you?" Kate asked so hesitantly that it almost broke his heart. He could do nothing but comply.

"I can do that Kate," He agreed, his voice soft. He hesitated only momentarily, before he reached into his jeans and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he gently traced his fingertip over the first picture inside before turning it around so Kate could see.

"This is Alexis. My daughter."

Kate took note of his use of present tense and followed suit. "She's beautiful Castle," she told him honestly and studied the young teenager in the picture. Her red hair must have come from her mother, but her smile and blue eyes were entirely her father. Kate suddenly felt ashamed for making him speak of something that hurts him still. Castle looked again at the picture of his daughter, before he laid it delicately aside on the patio.

"I used to be," he began, but paused, searching for the right word. "Different." He decided. "I was Richard Castle, famous mystery novelist. I went to parties; I drank a lot of alcohol and met a lot of women. I went to book signings, and breasts represented the majority of places I was persuaded to sign."

He grinned when Kate scoffed. "Such a martyr," she murmured but leaned into him slightly. Castle could swear he felt her touch, the warmth from her shoulder, and took comfort in it.

He drew in a deep breath, "I didn't know just how much it unnerved Alexis. My beautiful daughter hated it, everything about it, but Alexis, she was there for me. More of a parent than I was. She kept me in check, made me come home for curfew," Castle joked, remembering, and Kate smiled.

"But I could tell she didn't like who I was becoming," he admitted, sorrow in his voice. "What I've always wanted to be is a hero to my little girl."

If she hadn't liked this man before, that sincere statement would have cemented it for Kate. Richard Castle was one of the best men she had ever met. Kate worried what the rest of his story would bring, and didn't interrupt, but raised her legs to pull her knees against her chest.

"But I was stuck. I couldn't write. I had no inspiration." Castle set his hand right beside hers, and studied the way their hands looked together, wishing he could hold hers. "I still don't Kate. I haven't been inspired until very recently." That she inspired him was implied, and Kate was flattered. "I was offered a book deal," he continued and Kate remembered.

"Bond."

He studied her intently, wondering, before he smiled briefly. "Yeah."

"I liked it," Kate admitted, remembering suddenly, that she had preordered a copy. She remembered still being furious that her favorite writer had killed off Storm, one of her favorite characters, but had been unable to stop herself when it came to anything he wrote.

"Thank you," Castle said graciously, thankful that she knew at least something of his work. "I was away in England, on a book tour, when the explosion went off," he said abruptly, startling Kate.

"Explosion?"

"New York, hit by terrorists again, the damage was miles. You don't remember?"

Kate stared at him, gaping, and shook her head.

Castle frowned, calculating, and then decided, "You must have already been in the hospital."

The silence was unbearably loud.

"They tell me Alexis must have been somewhere in the city, somewhere in the blast."

"Oh God, Rick," Kate moaned and dropped her head against her knees.

"She wasn't," Castle denied. "I know she wasn't."

Kate raised her head to look at him again. "How?"

Looking away and off into the distance, he explained. "No one believed me."

"I believe you."

"I got a call, about a month after. It was her. I could hear her in the background."

"And the police didn't investigate?"

"There was nothing to investigate. My daughter's class was on a field trip when the bomb went off. I mourned for her, I cried for a month, I died too. Until I got that call, Kate. They couldn't trace it. They didn't even think she called. The FBI liaison for missing children FBI chalked it up to a father missing and grieving for his daughter.

But I know she's alive, Kate. I can feel it."

Kate laid her hand over his, pausing, when it would have passed through, and Castle wished he could take comfort from her touch. "I travelled, searching for her, but had no clues to go on. No note. No ransom demand. Nothing. Any piece of evidence I thought I had led me nowhere. So I came back to New York.

She's the best part of me Kate."

Wiping at his face, at the tears he couldn't stop, Castle said abruptly, "Your Dad won't sign the papers will he Kate?" He couldn't believe a father could give up on his child even if there was even the slightest possibility of hope. Kate must have recognized where his thoughts had taken him and shook her head. "I don't know. I hope not," she said quietly. "The truth is, he probably will if he believes it's what I want."

"But—"

"It was my mother. We were supposed to go to dinner together, my mom, my Dad and I and she was gonna meet us at the restaurant, but she never showed. Two hours later we went home and there was a detective waiting for us. Detective Raglan," she paused at the name, her mind flashing to the diner, to the gunshot. "They found her body. She had been stabbed."

Castle thought of the murder board hidden behind the shutters on her window. "A robbery?"

"No. She still had her money, and purse, and jewelry. And it wasn't a sexual assault either. They attributed it to gang violence. A random wayward event. They couldn't think outside the box, so they just tried to package it up nicely. And the killer was never caught.

My dad took her death hard. He's sober now. Seven years. So this is for the life that I saved," she pointed to her watch, her father's watch, and reached under her shirt to show him the wedding ring looped on a delicate chain. "And this is for the life that I lost."

"I wish I'd met you sooner," Castle admitted ardently and Kate stared into his eyes.

"Me too."

They smiled at each other, Kate with tears in her eyes. Finally, Kate turned to him completely and placed her hands on either side of his on the arm of his chair. "Maybe I can help you," Kate suggested, referring to Alexis. "I am a detective."

Castle was doubtful. "I don't know."

"Let me see what you have Castle. Let me help you find your daughter."

* * *

Let me know what you think if you get a chance. No noose, is good noose. But I do enjoy reviews...


	8. Chapter 8

Kate sat on the floor of her living room, her back against the couch. She studied the files and notes she had Castle spread out along the floor; trying desperately to find something new, to find some evidence that would suggest that Alexis Castle was still alive. Kate wanted to help him, like he'd helped her. She wanted to do this one thing for him. It mattered more than anything. This man, sleeping soundly on the couch behind her, deserved happiness. Kate looked up and away from the documents to study Castle. He was lying stretched out along her couch on his stomach, his arms curled around her Union Jack pillow.

Drooling, Kate decided with a forgiving sigh. Leaning even further back against the couch, Kate wished she could crawl up beside him. She wished she could wrap her arms around him in sleep. But that wasn't going to happen, Kate reminded herself. It was silly to think any different. What she could do, was solve this case and bring Alexis home to her father.

She was alive.

If Castle believed his daughter was alive, that was enough for Kate.

Because she believed in Richard Castle.

Looking back over the files, Kate's eyes narrowed when her eyes caught sight of man in the reflection on a car in one of the surveillance footage Castle managed to acquire. This man seemed so familiar to her, late sixties, maybe seventies, and a beard; Kate wished she could see him more clearly. One thing that struck her, however, was the fact that even blurry, it was obvious to Kate that he was following someone.

Following Alexis?

This picture, from right outside the building of Castle's loft, had to mean something.

She spotted the man in at least three more photos, always blurry, and unclear, but clearly him. If she found this man, she might find a real clue about what happened to Alexis. It was a possibility, and it could be a lead.

Kate pursed her lips, but knew she wouldn't tell Castle just yet. This reflection could mean nothing. This man could mean nothing. She wanted to follow it up, she wanted to call Ryan and have him work his magic with the tech team to get a clearer view, or a different angle. Kate needed more to go on, she needed to continue to study the files.

She needed a board to post everything, Kate thought grudgingly, and looked around her apartment.

The phone, Castle's cell, rang from its place on the table Castle had pushed off to the side earlier. Kate stole a glance at the still sleeping Castle and waited for him to hear it and wake up. The noise didn't seem to bother him, as he continued to sleep. Kate smiled a little indulgently and twisted around and up to her knees.

"Castle," she whispered, not wanting to startle him. He barely twitched. "Castle," she repeated a little louder as the phone continued to ring. He jerked a little, "Don't get up yet, stay in bed," he murmured drowsily, and Kate repeated his name, this time firm and demanding.

Castle opened one eye slightly. Smiling, he pressed his face further into the pillow. "Kate. Hi," he greeted sleepily.

"Your phone," Kate supplied.

"My phone?"

"I'd get it for you but, not really here," she reminded him, amused when he just stared at her. Kate nodded in the ringing phone's direction and made a grabby motion with both hands. Castle's sleepy vision cleared, he grunted, and all but rolled into her to stand, snatching up his phone right before the caller was sent to voice mail.

"Castle," he answered, not looking. "Hi Wanda," he greeted his real estate agent.

"You're not going to believe it, but you lucked out Richard!" she exclaimed.

"What's the great news?" he asked after a moment and then frowned, his face sheet white, when he realized that there was only really one thing this woman would think of as "great news".

The apartment.

"You can buy the apartment."

"No," he muttered and looked down at Kate, still sitting on the floor. "What happened?"

"It's a sad story. A tragedy in the family and the father is finally going to take his daughter off of life support."

Castle pressed 'end call' on his phone, gave the room a panicked look, and then knew what he had to do. "Come on Kate," he urged and grabbed his coat from the chair in the kitchen. Kate stood, questions in her eyes, but ready to follow him. "We have to go talk to your dad," Castle explained, and not even waiting for her, ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and was calling for a cab by the time Kate stood beside him again.

"Why, what are you going to say to him?" Kate worried.

"Well," He paused as a cab pulled to the curb, opened the door for Kate. "What kind of dirt do you have on him?"

Kate smiled wryly, but furrowed her brow in thought. She absently told Castle her father's address so he could repeat it to the cabbie, but continued to think. This was a long shot. Her father didn't believe in ghosts and spirits or magic and fate. He was a lawyer with a logical mind and rarely wasted that mind on anything he couldn't explain. Like her.

"I already told you, he's an alcoholic," Kate began and looked over and into Castle's earnest blue eyes.

"If we want him to believe I'm not crazy, we need something that no one else knows Kate," Castle explained and they both ignored the look the cab driver gave Castle. Or that he started to drive faster.

Kate bit her lip, thinking again, and softly admitted, "I arrested him."

"What?" Castle asked, confused, but eyes now solemn. The cab went even faster.

"I was still on Patrol at the time, and I got a call one night: drunk and disorderly. I show up to the scene and it's my dad. The guys, they wanted to let him slide when they realized who he was. Cut a break for family. I'm not ashamed to admit, I considered it. But nothing I had done before, no pleading with him could make him stop drinking.

I was done Castle. I was tired. I missed my mother every day, and now I lost my father too."

Castle lifted his arm and rested it along the back of the seat. He didn't say anything, but Kate scooted closer, almost touching, and took comfort in his presence. "So I took out my handcuffs and I arrested him. I drove him into booking and didn't post bail when he called me, still drunk, an hour after I left him in the sober cell."

"Kate, I'm so sorry," Castle said finally, his voice low and intimate. "I wish that—"

"He checked himself into rehab the next day. It was a tough fight, a struggle for him every day, but I've had my father back ever since," she finished with a smile.

"And he gave you his watch," Castle lifted a hand, and pretended to trace the face of the watch on Kate's wrist, thinking of her words to him earlier. "For the life you saved."

"Yes."

"That might work Kate," he told her tenderly and looked up and into the rearview mirror, shaking his head when the driver quickly glanced away, afraid of the man talking to an imaginary person.

* * *

Kate knew as soon as she stepped up to the door of her father's apartment that he wasn't home. Castle knocked on the door twice more, before giving up. He turned to her, "Did you want to check inside?"

"He's not there."

"Maybe he's at the hospital?" Castle suggested and Kate shook her head, her stomach filled with dread. As they stepped out on the sidewalk, Kate sullenly suggested that they check her father's favorite bar from years ago.

Pointing down the street, Castle had no choice but to follow beside, and wished hopefully that they came up empty. Kate didn't need to see her father drunk. She didn't need to experience that pain. He didn't say a word as they walked down the street, and remained quiet until they paused at the entrance at an old sports bar.

"It will be okay Kate," Castle tried to reassure, and then pushed the door open.

Kate let out a long breath when she spotted her dad almost immediately. "That's him, that's my dad." She admitted nodding to the man sitting all alone at the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him. Castle stepped over to him to take the seat right beside the older man.

"Jim Beckett?"

Jim looked over to him, confused, but also completely sober.

"I'm Richard Castle," he introduced himself as Kate took the seat on the other side of Castle. "I'm a friend of Kate's…" he trailed off, letting Jim reach his own conclusions.

Sighing, Jim motioned to the alcohol in front of him. "I've stared at it for over an hour now. Katie would be so disappointed in me," he explained and then continued. "I just couldn't do that to her." Jim concluded and pushed the glass over to Castle. The bartender, hovering, picked up the glass when Castle nodded toward it and the drink disappeared. Waving him away gratefully, Castle focused on Jim. Kate was staring at her father, happy tears in her eyes.

"She wouldn't want you to fall back down that rabbit hole Jim," Castle reassured the man. "She would be so proud of you." Kate nodded even though her dad couldn't see her. She was thankful Castle was there for him in this moment. He had been the push her father had needed to step away for good.

Jim looked up at the television, a baseball game, and asked "You knew her well?"

Both Castle and Beckett noticed the past tense and frowned. "You could say that," Castle explained somewhat wryly. Then his face grew serious as he put a firm hand on Jim's shoulder. "She pulled me out of the darkness."

Kate stared at him, stunned, and her eyes went soft.

"Me too, son."

Nodding, he dropped his hand away. Castle took a deep breath, "And so I wanted to ask you, to beg you, not to sign those papers Sir. I believe in her. I know she can pull through. I know she can fight this."

"Rick right?" Jim asked and when Castle confirmed with a slight nod, he smiled as much as he could. "I'm sorry, but it's too late. I signed them this morning, right before I came here. She's been in a coma so long," he explained when Castle opened his mouth to protest.

Standing, Kate walked over and around to her father's other side. "Dad I'm right here."

"We're terminating life support tomorrow morning at ten."

"Can't you feel me, Dad? I'm right here!"

"Katie's always been the strong one. She pulled me out of the bottle. For once I want to follow her wishes. For once I want to be the strong one, and do the right thing for her. Keeping her on life support would be because of my selfish need. Katie deserves better."

Kate couldn't argue with him, even if he could hear her, she couldn't tell him he was doing the wrong thing.

Castle would not let it go. He couldn't.

"I think you're making a horrible mistake Jim, because I really believe…"

Jim cut him off, abruptly. "It's for the best Rick."

"Dad," Kate said feebly, knowing he couldn't hear her, her heart breaking for her father.

Castle sat stunned, really having placed his faith on being able to change Jim Beckett's mind. It was time to finally get a little more honest and blunt. "Look, this is going to sound strange…"

"Castle, no, don't," Kate warned, but it was too late.

"But Kate is right here. She came with me and she's begging you to wait. She's standing there, right next to you."

"Right next to me?"

"Right there."

"Castle…"

"No, let me do this," he begged Kate and then turned back to Jim. "I don't know how or why and I know it's crazy, but I can see and hear your daughter Jim."

Jim looked around, as though evaluating the crowd and any eavesdroppers. Then he turned back to Castle and nodded at the door. "Meet me outside." Her father walked over and exited the bar, and Castle stood to follow him.

"Okay, Castle, this could work," Kate told him happily, but the smile was gone as soon as they stepped outside.

Jim punched Castle right in the stomach.

"Oh my gosh!" Kate exclaimed and rushed to Castle's side. Bent over at the waist, he rubbed his now very tender stomach and tried to get his breath back. "Are you okay Castle?" If Kate thought it funny her father had punched him in the stomach, she didn't let it show. When Castle looked over and into her eyes he saw only concern.

And maybe a little 'I told you so' as well.

"I'm okay," he reassured her and straightened, looking at Jim. The older man was breathing heavily, and Castle was sorry for the grief etched on his face. The sorrow made Jim look at least ten years older, but still determined and angry.

"Who the Hell do you think you are?" Jim demanded. "Get out of here and leave me in peace," her father's voice faltered slightly, his words unsure now, and Kate realized he may never feel peace again. Not peace of mind or heart. His entire family taken from him.

Castle, apologies in his eyes asked, "Sir, with all due respect, why would I make this up?"

"Richard Castle," Jim murmured and then narrowed his eyes. "You the writer, the mystery novelist. I knew I recognized your name."

"Mr. Beckett," Castle began, unsure where the other man was leading.

"Did you even know my daughter?" Jim demanded, and then continued without waiting for a response from him. "She would have told me if she had met you," he concluded to himself.

Castle took a step closer, weary of being hit again, but just as determined to save Kate. Kate watched him, unsure which man she was more worried for. "I know Kate and I care about her," Castle promised and then wanting to prove it said, "Kate wears her mother's wedding ring on a chain around her neck. She also wears your watch, the watch you gave her: for the life she lost and the life she saved."

Confusion lanced through the anger in Jim's eyes as Castle continued to talk, as he continued to explain everything Kate had told. He mentioned Johanna's murder, the start of Jim's drinking, and the arrest. Castle thought it might work. He had hope of Jim believing him, as the man's eyes drifted, lost in memories.

"Castle," Kate whispered, waiting for her father to believe. Castle nodded in her direction and then realized Jim's eyes had refocused.

"I don't know how you know that, I'm almost afraid to believe that you were stalking her," Jim finally said, and raised his hand when Castle began to argue, obviously appalled by that thought. "I'd like to give you the benefit of a doubt, but what you're saying, that my Katie is somehow right here?" Jim shook his head. "I just don't believe it. So I need you to leave and I never want to see you again."

"Let's go Rick," Kate told him, grief and tears making her voice hoarse.

Castle hesitated.

"Go," Jim pleaded and Castle turned to walk away, his faith shaken.

The hope that he could save Kate, that they could keep each other, even after finding each other too late, gone. His shoulders slouched, Castle pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans kicked a rock on the sidewalk as he turned the corner.

Hearing Kate coming up behind him, he turned to look at her, just a lone tear pushed its way free from her watery eyes and made a trail down her cheek.

He didn't want to lose her.

He just found her.

"Kate I—"

"Coney Island," Kate said abruptly and Castle stopped walking, turned and gave her his full attention.

"We, uh, we had a reception at our place after my mom's funeral and it was miserable," Kate explained. "I was miserable. And my Dad took my hand and he said, uh, let's get the hell out of her Katie. And we took the Q Train.

And we went up to Coney Island.

We walked up and down that beach just enjoying ourselves—we were still in our funeral clothes," she told him with a little laugh, remembering. "And the best part was that we made this little stick figure guy I keep in my desk drawer at the Precinct out of the twigs and twine that washed up on the shore."

Castle studied her for moment, wondering, and then finally asked, "Does that make that day a bad memory, or a good one?"

Kate smiled at him, her face tender and open. "Both," she told him honestly. "He's a reminder that even on the worst days, there's a possibility for joy."

Castle let out a breath and gave her a nod. "Nice."

"You're my possibility Rick," Kate admitted, revealing why she wanted him to know that personal moment from years ago. "You make me feel joy."

"Kate," He was overcome with emotion, and stood there, watching as she started to walk again, leaving him behind. Turning, she smirked and tilted her head, "You coming Castle?"

* * *

Detective Kevin Ryan walked into the break room looking for his partner, and was surprised to see Esposito staring at the television.

"Dude," Ryan protested, having just spent his entire morning pulling in research for their case. All while his partner, it would seem, was enjoying some entertainment.

"It was on when I walked in Bro," Esposito explained and then pointed. "And then I couldn't look away. Kristina Cottera is one smoking hot—"

Ryan's eyes immediately flew to the flat screen on the wall. "I wonder what color her bikini was this time?" Distracted, Ryan's eyes landed on the picture in the top right of the screen instead of the brunette bombshell front and center.

"Richard Castle, Hero," he read aloud.

"Isn't that the guy that was in here the other day?" Esposito asked curiously.

"Yeah. He's the mystery writer that owns The Old Haunt," Ryan replied, remembering why he had taken an immediate liking to the man.

"He gives us free drinks," Esposito nodded. "Cool guy. Kristina said that he saw a vehicle swerving out of control and then hit a light post. He called it in and then used his belt as a tourniquet on the man's thigh to stop the blood flow while they waited for paramedics to arrive on scene. Quick thinking," his partner obviously approved of the guy, Ryan thought, and then something else occurred to him.

"Didn't we have to do that once?"

"Use a belt? Yeah man, remember, it was Beckett's idea," Espo answered softly, the light in his eyes dimming.

"Yeah," Ryan murmured and imagined that maybe Kate and Castle had been really close after all. Maybe they had dated for a while. His attention was once again diverted when Kristina began to wrap up the segment.

Smiling into the camera, she shook her head in mock disappointment and began, "Now for all you ladies out there getting ideas: Richard Castle may be good to look at, but I hear that he won't be on New York's Most Eligible Bachelors list this year. He is very much taken. All I can tell you is her name is Kate."

Ryan's brow furrowed, wonderingly, as the reporter signed off. "Kate?"

"So what did you find out bro?" Esposito asked, referring to their open case. Ryan slapped the files he held into his partners hands, and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not sure, but it's worth looking into," Ryan responded, referring to something else entirely.

* * *

I'm loving the reviews! Each one make me smile. Please continue to tell me what you think, it takes a moment, but makes my day...


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